Religious Extremism, Islamophobia and Reactive Co-Radicalization by Muis Academy

RELIGIOUS EXTREMISM, ISLAMOPHOBIA AND REACTIVE CO-RADICALIZATION Douglas Pratt

The Muis Occasional Papers Series

THE MUIS ACADEMY OCCASIONAL PAPERS SERIES Represents individual lectures delivered by scholars who were invited under the Muis Visiting Scholars Programme. The aim of this series is to shape the local discourses on Islam and the Singapore Muslim Identity.

Religious Extremism, Islamophobia and Reactive Co-Radicalization Douglas Pratt

Muis Academy The Occasional Paper Series Paper No. 11

Other Titles in the Series: 1. Muslims in Secular States: Between Isolationists and Participants in the West by Abdullah Saeed 2. Contemporary Islamic Intellectual History: A Theoretical Perspective by Ibrahim M. Abu-Rabi’ 3. Islamic Law and Muslim Minorities by Khaled Abou El Fadl 4. Religious Values in Plural Societies by Chandra Muzaffar 5. Islam in Southeast Asia: Between Tolerance and Radicalism by Azyumardi Azra 6. A Framework for Nonviolence and Peacebuilding in Islam by Mohammed Abu-Nimer 7. Civic Responsibility in Political Society: An Islamic Paradigm by Abdulaziz Sachedina 8. The Construction of Gender in Islamic Legal Thought and Strategies for Reform by Ziba Mir-Hosseini 9. Basis for Interfaith Dialogue: Prospects and Challenges by Mahmoud M. Ayoub 10. Sharīʿah, Ethical Goals and the Modern Society by Jasser Auda

Copyright © 2017 Muis Academy, Singapore Published by Muis Academy, Singapore Designed and Printed by HoBee Print The following is a paper written for Muis Academy’s Islamic Discourse Engagement held on 12 April 2016. The views represented here do not necessarily reflect the views of Muis Academy, the Islamic Religious Council of Singapore (Muis), or its partners. ISBN: 978-981-11-5644-1

Religious Extremism, Islamophobia and Reactive Co-Radicalization Douglas Pratt

INTRODUCTION As we advance into the 21st century it seems that horrifying headlines provide an incessant reminder of the widespread presence of extreme forms of Islam. As any perusal of news media will quickly indicate reports of Muslim extremists beheading foreign hostages as well as executing fellow-Muslim opponents, both of which seem to be alarmingly routine. Often they are perpetrated by groups such as ISIS - DAESH; the so-called ‘Islamic State.’ With the headlines, there comes the inevitable result of much media commentary, with too many people simplistically equating ‘extreme’ with ‘mainstream’ thereby tarring all Muslims with the same brush of hostile intent. Furthermore, there is the projection of a hostile response on to all Muslims, anywhere, without differentiation. This is the generalised fear of Muslims, or ‘Islamophobia’ (Pratt & Woodlock, 2016; Andre & Pratt, 2016). But Islamophobia names not just an attitudinal stance, it applies also to sets of enacted exclusionary reactions, often drawing on religious imagery for inspiration and justification. And as an expression of a generalised ‘fear of Islam’, Islamophobia can manifest as a form of extremism every bit as abhorrent and problematic as the Islamist extremism that ostensibly provoked it. In this paper I discuss examples of what I call ‘reactive co-radicalization’, as a denominator of exclusionary reaction to the rising presence of Islam within otherwise secular, albeit nominally Christian, western-oriented societies, including Australia. I explore the idea that Islamophobia, at least in part or in some cases, can be regarded as itself a manifestation of extremism and that, indeed, such extremism is construable as ‘reactive co-radicalization’ (Pratt 2015a, 2015b). In an era where Islamic extremism is dominated, by the phenomenon we refer to as ISIS – or the so-called ‘Islamic State’ – globally, there is a case for arguing that the reactionary Islamophobia evident in societies such as Australia today is indicative of a deep, and increasing, social malaise. Islamophobia is the consequence of a circular problematic posed by the fact of, and response to, ISIS. Following a brief discussion of radicalization and terrorism, and then some comments on the problem of religious plurality and fundamentalism, I focus on two European cases – the 2009 Swiss ban on the building of minarets and the 2011 Norwegian massacre carried out by Anders Breivik – as examples of what I call ‘reactive co-radicalization’. I then reference some recent parallel expressions of this form of extremism that have arisen in Australia. The underlying question is: How might ‘reactive co-radicalization’ contribute to and inform the contemporary understanding of Islamophobic reactions to ISIS and allied Islamism and, in so doing, address the problem of a spiral of increasing communal unrest, even violence, as recently evidenced in Australia?

RADICALIZATION & TERRORISM Clark McCauley and Sophia Moskalenko view radicalization as an aspect of “increasing extremity of beliefs” as well as behaviours supportive of conflict and violence: Functionally, political radicalization is increased preparation for commitment to intergroup conflict. Descriptively, radicalization means change in beliefs, feelings, and behaviors in directions that increasingly justify intergroup violence and demand sacrifice in defense of the ingroup (McCauley and Moskalenko, 2008, 416). On the other hand, scholars such as Anja Dalgard-Nielsen (2010) and Pete Lentini (2009) regard radicalization as involving a drive for comprehensive change: politically, culturally, and socially. In the former case, radicalization refers to a development that precedes and so justifies violent or otherwise extreme actions. In the latter, violent behaviours are more of a tool of the radicalization whose objectives legitimise the actions: ends justifies means. In this paper I incline more to the former on the basis that the particular form of religious extremism that can be spoken of in terms of radicalization has to do with a process of change to beliefs, perceptions, feelings and other drivers of behaviour, both psychological and ideological. In the two cases I discuss, my contention is that what emerges as Islamophobia arises out of processes of radicalization of sets of guiding ideas (theology, ideology) that varyingly impact persons whether individually (as with Norway’s Breivik) or collectively (as with those Swiss who voted against Muslim minarets). In terms of behavioural specifics there is no comparing these two cases: one enacted death, the other simply a denial. Yet each gives evidence, I suggest, of a process of radicalising of values, beliefs, attitudes, that, relatively speaking, resulted in some form of extreme outcome. Whist for many it would be the Breivik case only that would be classified as a genuine example of extremism, my contention is that what we mean by ‘extremism’ needs to be understood more broadly, and more processively (Dalgaard-Nielsen and Lentini), rather than simply on what amounts to the atrocity level of the extreme act. Terrorism has many root causes as well as differing frameworks of self-understanding (cf. Reich 1998). Extreme behaviours, including the violent acts of terrorism, are born of many factors. Religion, in varying forms, is increasingly in the frame as a critical component of contemporary terrorism and political violence (Ellingsen 2005, Pearce 2005). In the case of religious or religiously motivated a ctors one factor is that of the religious ideology that embeds – that is, doctrinally or intellectually undergirds – the justifying narrative. Religion is by no means the full story, of course, but religion is not to be discounted and may even emerge as the lead factor – especially where there are obvious links between the terrorism and a given religion (cf. Juergensmeyer 2003).

Today, however, a new form of religious extremism has emerged, arguably one which portrays itself as, paradoxically, being a counter to another perceived extremism which is posited as a real and imminent threat. The perceived and manifest antipathy of one towards the other is reciprocated; discontent is mutual.

THE PROBLEM OF PLURALITY AND FUNDAMENTALISM Plurality, or diversity, names much of the context of contemporary life. Religious and cultural – not to mention ethnic, racial, and gender – diversity is a facet of our time in a way that is, arguably, qualitatively different to almost anything hitherto. Indeed, it has been said an affirmation of plurality is a hallmark of so-called post-modernity, which itself is a cipher for the present widespread experience, if not also affirmation, of diversity per se. As the Australian sociologist Gary Bouma has remarked in respect of religion in such societies: “Being consciously multifaith [sic] is part of being a postmodern society” (Bouma 2006, 5). But, of course, religious extremists eschew diversity and resist multi-faith tolerance, let alone acceptance. Nevertheless, today, in just about all quarters of the globe, the religious dimension of any given community is pluriform. But if the capacity to cope with diversity is a hallmark of the understanding of a modern secular society, it is anathema to religious extremists, including Islamism or otherwise hard-line versions of Islam, whether Sunni or Shi’a. Within the realm of religion, discussions and analyses of fundamentalism can elucidate the nature of extremist ideology and behaviours. Halafoff usefully notes the general belief of fundamentalists that “humanity has lost its way and fallen into moral decay and materialism by disavowing … guidance in the pursuit of freedom” (2014: 297). She goes on to note the reaction of religious extremists to diverse expressions of contemporary secular plurality. In my own analysis of fundamentalism (Pratt 2013a), I identify three interrelated sets or phases namely passive, assertive, and impositional. Passive fundamentalism tends to ‘mind its own business’ so far as the rest of society is concerned; assertive fundamentalism perhaps somewhat less so. But it is of the essence of impositional fundamentalism to impose its views and demand its programmatic vision be implemented. An impositional fundamentalism wants to see things change to fit its view of how things should be, and will take steps to make its views dominant and, if need be, act imposingly to bring about change – by covert or overt interventions, including fomenting revolution or enacting terrorism. Thus, at this juncture, fundamentalist ideology holds that extreme actions, including violent behaviours and even terrorism per se, may be contemplated, advocated, and engaged. Denial of alterity, the devaluing and dismissal of ‘otherness’ as such, leads to the dehumanising and demonising of the negated other. The ideological sanctioning of a programme of imposition leads naturally to the legitimation of extreme behaviour, even violence. We will see how this applies in the two European case studies.

FEAR OF MUSLIMS: TWO CASES OF EXTREME REACTION Among a number of possible cases that could be considered, I wish to focus on two – the Swiss ban on the building of minarets and the Norwegian massacre carried out by Anders Behring Breivik – as examples of what I have come to think of as the mutual extremism of reactive co-radicalization. By this I mean the phenomenon whereby the awareness or presumption by one party that another is fomenting a threatening extremism then precipitates, within the first party, a reactive move in the direction of a like radicalisation even though, paradoxically, the perceived initial extremism of the second party is eschewed and denounced. This is the basic pattern of mutually hostile nations, whether in hot or cold warfare mode, of taking account of each other’s political posturing and military capacity and attempting to ensure that the other side does not gain advantage. It is a fundamental dynamic of international relations that leads to policies of active (as in contemporary US-North Korea), sometimes mutual (as in US-Soviet era), deterrence. But whereas such dynamics belong not inappropriately to state actors, what I am here focusing on is a similar dynamic applying to non-state actors who nevertheless may seek to influence, or is some way represent, the state – more usually with respect to what it is believed the state ought to be, rather than what it is. This dynamic certainly applies to these selected cases. Further, both expressed a form of focused anti-diversity and gave evidence of the politics of cultural and identity threat. The Swiss case issued in a message of implicit exclusion; the Norwegian affair enacted a displaced elimination. The Swiss ostensibly took fright at four minarets in their country and resolved that no more should appear; Anders Breivik killed fellow citizens as a means of expressing the rejection of Islam on the grounds of this faith being a cultural and religious threat to European identity (Berwick/Breivik 2011).1

THE SWISS BAN Since late November 2009 the erection of Muslim minarets in Switzerland has been forbidden. A relatively high number of voters, 53.4% of those eligible, cast their vote in this referendum, or ‘Citizen’s Initiative’ (Volksinitiative), with an absolute majority (57.5% to 42.5%) supporting the idea of a ban. At the time there were some 200 mosques in the country. The oldest, an Ahmadiyya mosque built in 1962, is in Zürich. The largest, built in 1975 with Saudi funding, but open to all Muslims, is in Geneva. Of the 200, only four had minarets. However, in the years immediately preceding the referendum, two mosques sought planning permission to erect a minaret, and it 1

Breivik’s 1518 page ‘manifesto’ in which the author has anglicized his name as ‘Andrew Berwick’ asserts ‘the fear of Islam is all but irrational’ and claims to address topics ‘related historical events and aspects of past and current Islamic Imperialism’. The manifesto, a compilation from multiple sources, has been available as a pdf download via a Google search. 5

was these applications which sparked a right-wing reaction aimed at, and eventually achieving, the addition of a single sentence to article 72 of the federal Constitution: “The construction of minarets is prohibited” (Pratt 2013b). So long as this addition remains there will be no more minarets built in Switzerland. On the one hand it would seem like a case of political overkill: building code restrictions and allied requirements at the local level had precluded, without rancour, the building of minarets in many places just as they precluded new church towers or steeples. Switzerland was not exactly at risk of being transformed overnight into a minaret-dominated landscape – although this was certainly the fear-mongering image promoted by the supporters of the ban. Other European countries have their flashpoint issues with Islam – often centred on female attire – however, as Mayer notes “The symbolic nature of the minaret … acquired a central place in the political debate in Switzerland … but larger anxieties and issues hide behind the minaret question” (Mayer 2011, 10). The process that led to the minaret ban commenced with a pre-referendum petition launched in May 2007 (Pratt 2013b). Populist concerns were picked up and fanned into fires of fear by the right-wing politicians eager for grass-roots support. Xenophobia and racism played a part in the negative discourse, alongside anxieties associated with immigration and asylum-seeker concerns, and diatribe about foreign-born criminals. However, for the most part, the attention of the angst was Islam itself; the minaret was the focal symbol so far as the discourse about Islam was concerned (Mayer 2011, 8). Construed as a symbolic motif of a presumably exclusivist and domineering religion, the response of the Swiss to an imagined Islamic take-over threat was to enact a domineering exclusivism of their own, by way of a blanket rejection of a rather littlefound material feature of the religion. The architectural trope became the lightening rod of pent-up anxiety. As Lienemann notes, the motives and arguments of the initiative broadly reflect and echo concerns and prejudices widely held throughout Western Europe. The general question underlying much of the negative discourse, he suggests, is whether Islam, with its predominating legal perspective and approach, is compatible with a free society (Lienemann, 2009, 135). In particular, the minaret as such was portrayed as a symbol of aggression and power, an inherently negative symbolic edifice representing an inherent Muslim desire to live by, and impose on others, Sharīʿah law codes. Central to the anti-minaret argument was the claim that the building of minarets is itself an expression of Muslim pretensions of socio-political hegemony. The reference to minarets as symbolising Muslim aggression – they were likened to, and portrayed as, menacing rockets – was quite widespread and utilized by some right-wing politicians. That one object was seen to represent both piety and power – with power emerging as the dominant motif, so provoking a fearful reaction even to expressions of piety. Muslims were portrayed invariably as religious fanatics; intolerant and unenlightened; indeed, resistant to Enlightenment and post-Enlightenment ideals and imagined as incapable of integration into the normal realms of Western society. 6

Lying behind many negative arguments and opinions supporting the ban was the reality that many Swiss held fears concerning Islam and its presumed challenge to Swiss, indeed Western, democracy. Some stated that the rising overt presence of Muslims led them to feel foreigners in their own land. As Muller & Tanner put it, “the minaret is thus a symbol of a religio-political demand which wants to know nothing of fundamental religious freedom” (Muller & Tanner, 2009, 40). One general anti-minaret argument was that the presence of Islam in Europe threatens the secular status-quo; therefore Islam should be either ‘tamed’ or rejected. But it is unlikely to be tamed, in the sense of becoming, like the Churches, secularised vis-à-vis relations with the State. So it must be rejected. This led to the paradoxical enactment of a prohibition of further erections of “a religious-political symbol of that which represents the rejection of religious toleration thereby ensuring the freedom of belief for all” (Müller & Tanner, ibid). The very presence of Islam was – and for many is still – regarded as threatening the religious freedoms of non-Muslims. From Switzerland, we turn northward, and two years on from 2009.

THE NORWEGIAN NIGHTMARE On July 22, 2011, Norway witnessed a horrific assault from within. A young Norwegian man, Anders Behring Breivik, then only 32, detonated a bomb in the capital of Oslo, destroying a government building in which several people died and many more were injured. Shortly thereafter, in a surreal attempt to precipitate an uprising against Islam, he set about executing 69 individuals, mostly young people, who were attending a political (Labour) youth camp on the island of Utoya. Writing in the aftermath of the massacre, Egil Asprem commented: Breivik overnight became the most famous Norwegian name since Vidkun Quisling made his a global synonym for treachery. The parallel is ironic, for in Breivik’s own mind it was a civil war against the “quislings” of contemporary Norway which made it absolutely “necessary” to blow up the government offices in the center of Oslo, and cold-bloodedly murder sixty-nine people, mostly teenagers, one by one, on the tiny island of Utoya (Asprem 2011, 17). Breivik’s Facebook profile at the time noted his political views as being “conservative” and that his religion was “Christian”. But when a picture of him posing in Freemasonic regalia emerged, it was, says Asprem, “as if a collective confusion gripped not only the Norwegian public but the international one too” (Ibid). The picture is included in his so-called manifesto which he released via email and internet posting shortly before he put his plans into action. In this clues and statements concerning his ideology and the rationale for his actions can be found. The title and symbolism that threads throughout is telling. 2083: A European Declaration of Independence carries a Maltese cross on its title page, superimposing a Latin motto.2 The first half may be translated as “In praise of the 2

De Laude Novae Militiae – Pauperes Commilitones Christi Temlique Solomnici 7

New Knighthood” for it is, indeed, the title of the defence of the Knights Templar by of Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153CE). The second, as Asprem notes, is the official title of the Knights Templar themselves: “The Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and the New Temple of Solomon” (Asprem 2011, 18). Tellingly, Breivik states that his 1518 page Compendium demonstrates “that the fear of Islamisation is all but irrational” (Berwick, 2011, 4). He goes on to claim there “is no Resistance Movement if individuals like us refuse to contribute” and that his manifesto “presents the solutions and explains exactly what is required of each and every one of us” (Ibid, 8 & 9). He asserts, rather chillingly, of the context of Islam in Europe that “It is not only our right but also our duty to contribute to preserve our identity, our culture and our national sovereignty by preventing the ongoing Islamization” (Ibid, 8). So, what are we to make of Breivik’s actions and motives? How might his motives and actions be assessed? Norwegian social anthropologist, Sindre Bangstad (2014), shows how, disturbingly, Breivik’s views are not so far from what is now ‘political mainstream’ than once might have been the case, not so long ago. From the outset, Breivik’s ‘manifesto’ combines a certain form or understanding of Christianity with advocacy of military action and the defence of Europe that yields a vision of a “new Templar terrorist organization, dedicated to fight Islam, save Europe and kill the traitorous ‘cultural Marxists’ – that is, politicians on the left, their journalist protégés, academics in the humanities and social sciences, and anyone sympathetic to multiculturalism and feminism” (Asprem, 2011, 18). Attacks on such targets are discussed in some detail. In the end it led him to murder innocent Norwegians in the cause of attempting to provoke a European-wide rejection of Islam. A generic fear of creeping ‘Eurabia’ (cf. Ye’or, 2005), and concern at the rise of Islam replacing church with mosque and imposing Sharīʿah law, dominated his thinking. Significantly, such concerns are echoed by many parties of the Right within the wider European parliamentary system.3 Thus there has emerged from such quarters the rhetoric of an imperative to ‘save Europe’ and in the process eliminate the traitors who allow the entry of the Islamic Trojan horse. And for Breivik this had become a matter of urgency. He declared multiculturalism to be “the root cause of the ongoing Islamization which has resulted in the Islamic colonisation of Europe through demographic warfare (facilitated by our own leaders)” (Berwick, 2011, 9). And he went on to add: “Time is of the essence. We have only a few decades to consolidate a sufficient level of resistance before our major cities are completely demographically overwhelmed by Muslims” (Ibid). For Breivik, it is Christianity that he regards as having the necessary unifying power to stand up to the incursion of Islam. At the same time he declares the 3

Notably the Dutch PVV, the Sweden Democrats, the Norwegian Peoples’ Party, the True Finns, and the Hungarian Jobbik party.

Church he loves “does not exist anymore because it has been deconstructed” but, he avers, “I know that it can be reformed and that it again will embrace and propagate principles of strength, honour and self-defence” (Ibid, 1361). He wishes to see the Christian Church reformed as a Euro-centric nationalist institution, but also inclusive or at least accepting of distinctive European pre-Christian traditions such as Odinism. For Breivik believes that Christianity is “the only cultural platform that can unite all Europeans, which will be needed in the coming period during the third expulsion of the Muslims” (Ibid). Indeed, he declared: Only Europeans, in solidarity with each other, can solve our current problems. As for secularism, are there any strong uniting symbols at all? I think not. In order to protect your culture you need, at the very minimum, strong, uniting symbols representing your culture. In this context, the cross is the (sic) unrivalled as it is the most potent European symbol (Ibid). Breivik may be best described as a cultural Christian. His religious identity, such as it is, serves a greater cultural cause. He champions Christian values and the legacy of the Church only insofar as they are key cultural markers. He owns also a pagan North European Odinist identity. To this extent his extremism and exclusivism is not so much focused on the preservation of a particular religious identity against all ‘others’, but on the specific exclusion of a particular religio-cultural other: Islam. His is the rejection of all things Islamic. He manifests Islamophobia, the fearful rejection of Islam. It is his anti-Muslim stance that leads to a focused form of religious extremism rather than religious fundamentalism that drives an extremism resulting in the a priori rejection of Islam and Muslims. Nevertheless, there is still a correlation between the perception of Islam as inherently extreme, so requiring to be rejected, and the level and nature of the rejection that is advocated and enacted.

REACTIVE CO-RADICALIZATION AND AUSTRALIA Where have these cases taken us? What might we discern? What light might they shine on contemporary related issues of reactive co-radicalization in Australia? Clearly each displays evidence of extremism born of a reaction to the presumed threat of Islam. On the surface, the two cases discussed above seem to be quite different; indeed with respect to the actions they employed, they are quite incomparable. But they are replete with overlapping resonance: both of them are the product of fear of Islam and of Muslims. They each, in their own way, demonstrate Islamophobia in action. A radical response is enacted that directly correlates to the Islamic radicalization that the respondent objects to; in one case an electorate, in the other a single extremist. The criminal actions of Breivik and the quixotic Swiss minaret ban are examples of “reactive co-radicalisation”. And, of course, they are not the only examples.

Muslims with no link to Islamic extremists find themselves targeted in many parts of the world. The upsurge in aggressive anti-Muslim rhetoric and acts within the United States – a society that historically has been marked by the acceptance of religious otherness and diversity – is disturbingly marked. To target, militarily, a known and avowed enemy is one thing. To simply identify, by dint of generic identity association, people who are not themselves the enemy on the pretext, in this case, that it is the sameness of religion that marks them out as potential if not actual enemies, is to give way to a generalised fear or anxiety. A reasonable anxiety or fear of an aggressively militant form of Islam is generalised unreasonably to all Muslims, anywhere and everywhere, and to Islam as such. And this is not only the case within non-Muslim western countries. It is effectively a globalised phenomenon. For example, in Thailand there is evidence of reactionary Buddhist extremism in response to a perception of the danger posed by Islam and Muslims. There are anti-Muslim groups in Myanmar (Burma), Thailand, and Sri Lanka which have found sympathizers in and among Buddhist monastics, householders, and political leaders. And what of Australia, which sits clearly within the orbit of western secularised societies, albeit one that varyingly claims, still, a Christian heritage? We do not have to look far to find Australian examples of an Islamophobia that gives evidence of reactive co-radicalisation at play. Like Norway and, indeed, other Northern European countries, among others, this southern society has spawned a number of virulent anti-Muslim political movements and parties. Confrontational clashes and acts of violence are enacted by representatives (at least in their eyes) of the dominant community against a minority, purely on the grounds of religious identity. The Australian Liberty Alliance presents an anti-Islam platform – “Islam is a problem and if we don’t take steps to put laws in place to protect our culture and our society, then we are going to lose our freedom” (Taylor, 2015). The ‘Restore Australia’ party would ban Islam (Hall, 2016). This party claims “We’re not racists”. No; just rabidly Islamophobic. Its leader, Mike Holt, is quite open on the matter: “We believe that Islam is not compatible with Australian society, and under our Constitution it is actually illegal for anyone to be a supporter of Islam” (Hall, Ibid). Groups such as the United Patriots Front and Reclaim Australia also see Islam as having no place in this country – where, according to the 2011 Census, Muslims make up only around 2.2% of the total population. It’s all a bit like the Swiss, really; comedic if it were not so tragic, even sinister. Apart from organised groups, there are also plenty of individuals deeply hostile to Muslims and all things Islamic, believing, along with Europeans of similar outlook – including Anders Breivik – that western societies are suffering from an Islamic ‘invasion’. Aryan Nations Australia, with their ‘White Pride – Aussie Wide’ slogan, are “worried about Islam immigration to Australia” (Foster, 2016). And the Islamophobic temperature is kept up with public figures, such as Tony Abbot, calling for the reform of Islam and for Muslims to conform with ‘the Australian way of life’, or urging Muslims to ‘Reform’ (which translates as: become secular and apathetic to religion, like us; or to become religiously liberal, like us) or otherwise, whether by implication 10

or directly stated, to go elsewhere. Is this evidence of a rational response to a real threat, or of a rising extremism of attitude, value and even behaviour, in response to an undifferentiated, and even inflated, perception of extremist threat? To what extent is Australia manifesting the dynamic of reactive co-radicalization? And if one side is subject to State-agency surveillance, scrutiny and sanction, with respect to real evidence, or even merely the putative prospect, of threat and danger, should not the other side be likewise under surveillance? The mutuality of radicalization yields the irony of an ‘impositional extremism’ – even elimination – being enacted against those perceived to be ‘impositional extremists’ and whose extremism and supposed impositional intentions are denounced. And, in the process, the perception of a religious ‘other’ manifesting a threat yields a paradoxical extreme action that itself transgresses otherwise norms of behaviour, value, and religious narrative of the religion or culture that feels so threatened by the other – in this case, societies, or groups within societies, perceiving themselves to be threatened by Islam. Arguably, in some contexts the vice-versa holds, if only as a legacy from colonial times: Muslim societies in some cases can register as fearful of the aggrandizing and impositional intentions of some western secular and Christian societies.

CONCLUSION I suggest that most standard responses to Islamic extremism, coupled with a diffused yet palpable rising antipathy towards Islam and Muslims that is found within Western societies – secular and/or Christian – today, point us to the potentially deadly paradox of the reactionary extremism that is reactive co-radicalization. Because Islam is perceived as something extreme, reactions to it are deemed by some to be necessarily also extreme. In particular, certain forms of extreme right-wing Christian and quasi-Christian religio-political rhetoric posits Islam as an implacable threat fully deserving of all the opprobrium heaped upon it and justifying any exclusionary, if not eliminative, actions that can be mounted against it. Reactive co-radicalization refers to the phenomenon of a perception of a religious ‘other’ as manifesting an inherent threat. In response, an extreme action is undertaken that, relative to the religion or cultural norms of those responding, is abnormal. However, this is not to say the action taken is entirely absent from within the range of possibilities that lie within the responding religion or culture. They are simply not normally invoked, for they are in and of themselves extreme. They transgress otherwise norms of behaviour, value, and the religious narrative of the reacting group. To the extent there is a mutuality of radicalization, there is a paradox. An ‘impositional extremism’ – even elimination – is enacted against, so imposed upon, those perceived to be ‘impositional extremists’ and whose very extremism and supposed impositional intentions are denounced and abjured by those acting against them. 11

A question to ponder is to what extent reactive co-radicalization is, in fact, an emerging phenomenon that now deserves attention in its own right. I suggest it is. But further empirical work is required, especially if it is to provide a useful and apposite hermeneutic for investigating and understanding Islamophobia. Furthermore, do counter-radicalization and counter-terrorism techniques and processes, heretofore targeting Muslim communities, need also to be applied to the ideological host communities whence arise both secular and Christian (and other religious) forms of reactive co-radicalization? Ironically, it is the secularity of a secular society that allows for religious diversity. Yet today the utopian vision of a secular society positively predisposed to religious diversity is under threat from both religious extremism and reactionary forces that may be either religious or non-religious. With reference to the contemporary upsurge of reactionary intolerance Martha Nussbaum (2012, 2) observes: “Our situation calls urgently for searching critical self-examination, as we try to uncover the roots of ugly fears and suspicions that currently disfigure all Western societies”. She notes of the burqa and niqab bans implemented in France, Belgium and Italy that the numbers of actual wearers involved is a relative tiny minority. And there is a further irony: high fashion may even mimic, parallel, or otherwise replicate the veiled couture of the rejected Muslims. And Nussbaum concurs that Breivik’s expression of extreme rejection amounted to a reactive co-radicalization, albeit one that evoked a disturbingly mixed response from a wider western public. His actions were virtually universally condemned but his cause received wide sympathy and his real intention of “fighting the Muslim invasion” even celebrated (Ibid, 6). In the end however, the question that needs to be faced, is this: What is to be truly feared – Muslims and Islam; or the engendered – Islamophobic – fear of Muslims and Islam? What we are faced today in the so-called secular West, including in Australia, is increasing evidence of extreme right-wing and quasi-Christian religio-political rhetoric abjuring Islam and Muslims that is drifting ever more steadily toward the centre. Former marginal views are becoming increasingly mainstream. Arguably the centre – the so-called ‘silent majority’ – is becoming radicalized; or at least some sections clearly are. Extremist denouncements and calls advocating and justifying exclusionary or eliminative actions against the threatening ‘other’ of Islam are increasingly expressed – and tolerated. Certainly, they are rarely challenged. They are becoming normalized. Fear of the ‘other’, of difference and diversity, is the root problem. It lies at the heart of the mutuality of the reactionary extremism of reactive co-radicalisation. It is the challenge par excellence of our time.

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McCauley, Clark and Sophia Moskalenko (2008), Mechanisms of Political Radicalization: Pathways toward Terrorism. Terrorism and Political Violence 20/3: 415-433. DOI: 10.1080/ 09546550802073367. Muller, Felix and Mathias Tanner (2009), Muslime, Minarette und die Minarett-Initiative in der Schweiz: Grundlagen. In M Tanner, F Müller, F Mathwig and W Lienemann (Eds), Streit um das Minarett: Zusammenleben in der religiöse pluralistischen Gesellschaft Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 21-43. Nussbaum, Martha (2012), The New Religious Intolerance: Overcoming the Politics of Fear in an Anxious Age. Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press. Pearce, Susanna (2005), Religious Rage: A Quantitative Analysis of the Intensity of Religious Conflicts. Terrorism and Political Violence Vol. 14(3): 333-352. Pratt, Douglas and Rachel Woodlock (Eds) (2016), Fear of Muslims? International Perspectives on Islamophobia. Dordrecht, NL: Springer. Pratt, Douglas (2015a), Islamophobia as Reactive Co-Radicalization. Islam and ChristianMuslim Relations 26/2: 205-218. Pratt, Douglas (2015b), Reactive Co-Radicalization: Religious Extremism as Mutual Discontent. Journal for the Academic Study of Religion 28/1: 3-23. Pratt, Douglas (2013a), Fundamentalism, Exclusivism and Religious Extremism. In D Cheetham, D Pratt and D Thomas (Eds), Understanding Interreligious Relations. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 241-261. Pratt, Douglas (2013b), Swiss Shock: Minaret Rejection, European Values, and the Challenge of Tolerant neutrality. Politics, Religion & Ideology 14/2: 193-207. Reich, Walter (Ed) (1998), Origins of Terrorism: Psychologies, Ideologies, Theologies, States of Mind. Woodrow Wilson Centre Press, Washington DC. Taylor, Grant (2015), Anti-Islam party takes first steps. https://au.news.yahoo.com/ thewest/wa/a/29902634/anti-islam-party-australian-liberty-alliance-takes-firststeps/ (Accessed 11 February, 2016). Ye’or, Bat (2005), Eurabia: The Euro-Arab Axis. Madison, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press.

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Q: Thank you very much for your presentation. I have one question and two comments. Like the case of Islamic extremism, to what extent is religion actually feeding reactive co-radicalisation? As you briefly mentioned interpretations of Christianity, you mentioned Buddhism but to what extent is it actually religion per se. I remember from the case of France where I am based and it seems that those who fit into your description are those who are actually extreme secularists, the laique, and those who are actually mostly Atheists, or they suddenly realise that they want to be Christians again. So instead of having religion, it is lack of religion. Perhaps it is not so much of religion but the perceived challenge to culture and religious identity. Perhaps then in seeking solutions, we are looking for sources to address this challenge, we keep looking at religious sources, religious texts and Muslim fundamentalists when we should be looking at what we are lacking in terms of real cross-cultural/multi-faith interaction such as, as you mentioned, undergraduate courses on Islam and how that would actually help. Personally, I am running a class in Sciences Po. I teach a course on ‘Introduction to Islam in Southeast Asia’ at Sciences Po and each time it gets oversubscribed, with many international students. This shows that students are really interested in an alternative perspective on Islam. It is through such channels that the interesting questions on Islam crop up. So, we should not underestimate that the official institutions like universities are helping to put this across. Thank you. A: Thank you. This is a matter of common sense and good question. I think, religious identity is part and parcel of religious question. So I think it is certainly that religious ideas, and therefore ideologies, are part of the driver, but not necessary of the whole. And here is a different irony that is pervasive in today’s society. You have rightly identified secular extremism. Often secularists have a hard time trying to understand that they can be extreme in their way of thinking, even though their hatred for what they perceive as the ‘Other’ is there. There can also be such a thing as sacred extremism. Both parties think they are normal because part of the problem of the extremists is that they think they are normal. And then you have the situation, like in France, where is rabid laïcité. Ironically, the depth of their identity, that secular identity, is every bit as deep as a religious identity. And so much like, a non-religious religion. And being the flip side of that life form is really quite puzzling.

For number of years now, in New Zealand, if you establish an inter-faith grouping, council, a humanist association or secular educational institution comes and knock on the door. They would say: “We want to join.” And I am saying, “But hang on a minute but your raison d’etre is to be non-religious.” “Yes.” “But you want to be part of the inter-faith community.” “Yes.” “Why?” “But because we do not want the religion to have any kind of upper-hand and to have anything that we can’t have.” This is strange and the logic is hard to get around. However, perhaps it has something to do with the fact that the real underlying ailment actually is apathy. We have so much of strong identity that even the kind of identity is for the sake of identity – they may think while I do not believe in any of these particular religions, yet I still have my ‘beliefs.’ Then we can engage with their point of view, if that’s what they really want, as you mentioned, ‘real interaction.’ On real interactions, during a post-conference engagement, each table was asked to come out with a suggestion on how we might go forward nurturing more meaningful social ties, engage communities and build relationships, in the Australian context. The prize went to the idea of having monthly halal community barbeques. Australians like barbeques and they thought we could combine it with community talk. Perhaps what is needed is, more opportunities to interact and get to know a people and actually understand that we have our identities but that does not mean to say we have to be antagonistic towards each other.

In an interview about Christian-Muslim relations in Britain, an ethnically Indian Pakistani Muslim Lady was asked about relationships with Christians. She said, “Have a cup of tea. Ask how your kids are. Ask how they find their school. Find out how what it is like to be living as a neighbour.” There is some wisdom in there. As a starting point, to actually counteract these presumptions because most of the extremists’ viewpoints are actually born out of situations of imagining and assuming what the other side is all about. It may be better to get to know Other. Q: [Professor Pratt asks] Could someone share more about the context of the very multi-cultural, very multi-religious Singapore? My sense is that actually Singapore is right on track for promoting healthy diversity and is successful at holding it together. Does the concept of radicalisation has any resonance here? A: In context of Singapore, we have the Inter-Religious Organisation. It has been sixty-seven years since it was set up. It is not an organisation that went into redundancy with time. I think for the past sixty-seven years, members have been regularly meeting. And when you mentioned that, perhaps it is all about relationships and sitting down for a cup of coffee – that is exactly what we do very often among counsels. Sometimes we just call up and say, “Let’s meet for lunch,” or “Meet up for tea.” However, I feel when we are talking about all these problems that are coming up in different parts of the world, we sense that it is just a matter of time when things will happen in Singapore. And that is what our ministers are also telling us, that we should not be complacent. But I think I would like to see a Singapore as this--- we have always been talking about inclusion for the longest time. I think when even as we started as a nation from the first founding Prime Minister, the way the housing is planned, the schooling system, and our children grow up actually mixing with friends from different races, different religions – so they have ample space for interactions and growing up seeing each other as friends. Perhaps they may know that the other one is a Malay but maybe not a Muslim. For them, they are just friends.

I believe that the way Singaporeans view one another is fundamentally different from how others perceive Others, because while I was in Italy for almost 12 years, I could sense how different my reaction was to on-going events and to Muslims as compared to my colleagues’ reaction. During my stay, there were terrible things happening. My colleagues would walk into the office and say, “Sister, you better be careful because the next bomb might just drop on you.” Coming from Singapore, I have never walked around any place with that fear that something is going to happen to me because the fear has never been implanted in my heart that I need to look out for these people who can be dangerous to me. So during my travels, if I recognise a person is Hindu or Muslim I would always make it a point to have conversation because they make me feel at home. Because this is the way that we interact here. So it is so rare, to be able to just engage in a conversation on a train in Italy with someone of another faith. It brought a lot of comfort, for me, because that is where home is - where it is so different. And yet in my interaction with my own sisters, if I want to say, you know, inter-faith is something that is possible because it is how we live where I came from. They say, “You are crazy. Look at what the Muslims are doing. They are taking over Europe and the kind of problems that they are creating.” And I try to explain that it is not really like that. I fear that such sweeping statement are dangerous. We have to change the mentality of my [Christian] people - people whom I interact with. You know that personal testimony that I could share with them and say even my life has always been that I have always grown up with these Muslims. So I agree, it is this ignorance about ‘Others,’ and our false perceptions of them, I feel, that breeds a lot of fear. A: Absolutely. Thank you for that. I sense that there is a strain on the Singaporean context - sorry to be the bad guy but tragically Christians may perceive Christian Singaporeans as potentially treacherous because you are being open to the other side. Such sentiments would be true not only in Christian communities but also Muslim communities and other religious communities with people inside. A few years ago in Geneva, in a major Christian-Muslim debate, a young Imam from Tanzania shared eloquently how he faced resistance from his community for wanting

to participate in the conference. He faced awful threats as his own community thought he was following an inappropriate path in life. At the same time, there were Israeli Jewish Rabbis and Muslim leaders who were being expressively gratuitous to the Christians for hosting the event and creating a platform, away from their conflict-focused homes, where they could meet like-minded people who want to find the way to peace and engage in a dialogue because they It seems that in Singapore, the case is different as there has been a legacy of good relationships and interactions. The key thing is to continue to nurture and deepen that because it is so easy for it to slide. An instance, where good relations can survive even the worst of times happened after the Bosnian war in the 90s. Initially in the wake of the war, some people said it was a waste of time to have this Inter-Religious Dialogue because look what happened to Bosnia. However, I remember, it was because of very good relations between Jewish, Christian and Muslim leaders, that although that was an incredibly difficult period for all, things were rebuilt as fast as they did. A Jewish financier gave 37 million pounds for the Muslims to rebuild their community. This was possible only because before people were overwhelmed by the political situation, they had good religious relations on which you are able to rebuild these things and you actually promote good humanitarianism. Thank you for what you have shared of your encounter. Q: That is one of the best answers I have heard in a long time. The very fact that you have mentioned that we all have multiple identities. Somehow your identity as a member of a religious group always comes to the forefront and extremists keep on emphasizing on that. They claim that “you are a “this” before you are a “that”” but at the end of the day, you are also a father; a mother, a fan of a soccer team. So it is those commonalities that define you with Others who are also parents or soccer fans. As what was mentioned, it did not even occur to those neighbours that you are talking to a Hindu or a Muslim. You are talking to your neighbour, who makes very good curry. So it is sometimes this harping on the religious identities that plays into the hands of the extremists and what we should do is perhaps turn our focus on the identity of the person in front of us as a ‘neighbour,’ as a ‘human being’ first. Thank you.

A: [Moderator’s Comments] But the concern is now, in Singapore, interfaith relations are consciously being developed. We talk about this, but news, media, this round table discussion highlights negative vocabulary, fears and experiences – which for me, do not really exist – at least they did not exist in the past, but now they are becoming a reality that we are talking about it, I am so conscious of this. A: [Prof Pratt’s comment] Every time we have a roundtable on these kinds of terms, then there should be two other roundtables on building relationships and positive relations and sharing about the positive values and dynamics because you are right, there is a problem out there. Just the perception that this must be becoming a big problem because we happen to be talking about it. Often, people in the media, in my country, do not know the difference between the different religions. I recall one day; a radio show reported how a group of newly arrived Buddhists had been caught slaughtering a goat in their backyard garden. Upon investigation, it was in fact a group of Muslims. Another example would be the Sikhs. They were accused of being Muslims. It is a tremendous amount of actually dangerous ignorance because the situation in my country, from the late 19th century onwards, witnessed a complete divorce from religion and the result is huge ignorance which I think is a dangerous thing. Q: When you mentioned about Islamic radicalisation as an ideology itself. I think that carries some weight because it has both - it has a tactical measure and it has both micro and macro view. Now, we have spoken very much of the micro view. Sister has spoken about the comfort zone that we are enjoying now and so on. At the macro level, Professor has a point where if you look at ideology in the Islamic radicalisation, then we see an orientation which is a reorientation from fundamentalist Islamic religion. Now, this the should be moved back with a view for re-engineering, so that we can neutralise it. To do that, I think, we cannot rely on individual religion. Most religions are fundamentalist in many ways. The only religion I can see that is the least fundamentalist is Buddhism. The centre of gravity in maintaining neutrality have to be, the secular set-up. That means all the religions should be sitting on the same table, where the centre of gravity is the secular mechanism, which can dispense all the findings in a very neutral way. And this is one way we can use to neutralise the so-called new ideology.

A: I hear what you are saying and I think that basically I am sympathetic because what you are describing is the recreation of a secular which is not anti-religious but accepting of all religions and accepting diversity. In many cases the secular, as a contemporary Western ideological construct, is hostile to religion. Of course that rose out of the resolution of internal tensions within Christiandom, so that it ameliorated the tendency of one trying to dominate over the other. Even in certain parts of Europe you have state churches versus other variants of Christians and then there were other religions which were allowed under the state. The problem is that, to different degrees, a secular state that is accepting of religions while already in existence has certain assumptions such as, under the law, all citizens are all allowed to be live so long as they obey the law and do not disturb others â&#x20AC;&#x201C; in this case, people are free to believe and follow their own practices. However, such a set up becomes problematic if it does not include platforms for bringing people together to engage and to mutually affirm one anotherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s right to be. Without such development, can you imagine then what could happen with time? What has happened, is that there was an increased sense of silent resentment and you have only tolerance at a superficial level. Tolerance meaning I would accept, even though I do not like it. Whereas affirmation is accepting because it is valued it. And so to affirm diversity is quite a different thing to tolerating diversity. I see much of a safer society to have a ground-up initiative for a renewed sense of deeper tolerance. There is a need for a structure for affirming diversity and enabling religious people with a sense of confidence that it is okay to be exclusive and unique without denying others their own uniqueness and exclusiveness and without denying the need to live together and interact with respect and appreciation. Whereas what has happened is that in order for me to affirm my own exclusive uniqueness that I am right, I must presume the Other is wrong and therefore somehow deny them. And that I think is the exemplary assumption that a lot of projects in our society have. The round table is the goal we have to try and somehow achieve and we are moving in that direction.

A: [Another participant adds] I think Singapore has a good model for the secular setup. It meets the people at the roundtable, not only to benefit but to co-contribute and co-create social constructs and mental constructs as well. A: [Prof Pratt adds] One last point I would like to make is one of difference, one of the interesting things about that kind of fundamentalist approach to religion is being this paradox whereby, and it just comes out more than we perceive and can go more extreme, is that an extremist ideology that tries to combine exclusivism and sense of rejection and a negative sense of inclusivism - in the sense of wanting to include everybody within a single one-size-fit-all framework. To the extent that if you are included, you are like-minded but if you do not include yourself or allow yourself to be included, then you are excluded and that is where you are at the receiving end of strong negativity. And so the deviant extremism is more likely to want to impose a view by including everybody in a positional way. That is quite different, to a context of being included by or you are invited to sit down by the same table together to discuss along the lines you are talking about. So I think you have a positive inclusion of mutual affirmation as opposed to negative inclusion which is to say that you must give up your identity in order to be part of the group.

Scholar’s Profile

Douglas Pratt Professor Pratt holds appointments as Adjunct Professor (Theology & Interreligious Studies) at the University of Bern, Switzerland, and Adjunct Associate Professor (Research) in the School of Social Sciences at Monash University, Australia. A former President of the Australian Association for the Study of Religion (AASR) and the New Zealand Association for the Study of Religions (NZASR), Professor Pratt is the New Zealand Associate of the Australian-based UNESCO Chair in Intercultural and Interreligious Relations – Asia Pacific. He is also an Associate of the Centre for the Study of Religion and Politics (CSRP) at the University of St Andrews, Scotland. Professor Pratt’s research interests focus on recent and contemporary topics to do with Christianity, Islam, Christian-Muslim relations, interreligious dialogue, and religious issues such as pluralism, fundamentalism and extremism. Currently, he is a member of the leadership team, with special responsibility for East, South, Southeast Asia and Oceania, for the University of Birmingham (UK) based international research project Christian-Muslim Relations 1500-1900. Professor Pratt has widely published with a number of sole-authored and edited books and articles published in international academic journals. He is presently a co-editor of Studies in Interreligious Dialogue (Netherlands) and an associate editor for Islam and Christian Muslim Relations (UK) and the Journal for the Academic Study of Religion (UK). He is also one of three editors of the Berner Interreligiöse Ökumenische Studien (Bern Interreligious Oecumenical Studies) series for the Internationale Kirchliche Zeitschrift (Switzerland).

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