Author: robinkhan

What is the meaning of 9/11? This is a question which will be much asked as we approach the 20^th anniversary of the event. We must recognize that meaning is not fixed and static, rather it is dynamic, changing through time, and of course subject to those assigning it. Perhaps meaning is best defined as consequence—  namely what have the effects of 9/11 been on the US and the international system over the past 20 years. In a word, dire. 9/11 propelled the United States into a war with no clear enemy, no clear objective, and no clear cost. Today, we are beginning to see the outlines of the last of these, while the other two remain as indefinite as they did at the beginning of this orgy of violence. Since 9/11, the war America embarked upon has killed nearly 1 million people, destroyed states and societies, bankrupted the national treasury, imperiled the American-authored international order, and undermined both the rule of law and our democratic institutions. America’s recent shambolic exit from Afghanistan put all these elements on display – and more. In walking away from a 20- year war with callous disregard for the Afghans, and indifference to the views of our allies, the Biden Administration punctuated the fact that US foreign policy is now driven by an America First mantra. At the same time, the continuation of a murderous, unethical, and likely illegal drone war, hiding the costs of conflict from the public allows the forever war to continue unabated. Most interestingly, perhaps the withdrawal marks the death knell of the American empire, something Biden himself inadvertently acknowledged when he erroneously referred to Afghanistan as the ‘graveyard of empires’ in justifying the American exit. What is the meaning of 9/11? The consequence has been a generational war we have done our best to ignore the fact we are fighting. But its significance – ultimately, that is too early to tell.

On 9/10, policymakers were positive that conventional military might was the key to securing the US against major military adversaries such as China and Russia. The collapse of the Twin Towers signaled that not only had policymakers failed to choose the right defense against the threat, but they had failed to recognize what the threat was. The fact that the terrorists came from friendly countries such as Saudi Arabia meant that even our hierarchy of threat was obsolete. Analysis of religious motivations became vogue (but only of Muslims). However, the last 20 years have shown that while we learned, we did not learn enough. We have yet to comprehend the connections between religion, nationalism, and radicalism. Policy makers today underestimate religious and ethnic factors, even when they lay at the center of so many conflicts. National security gut instinct is to attack the adversary, even when we know the battle is for hearts and minds. Foreign policy oversights have fueled transnational threats from the heroin trade to the growth of the Islamic State in the past 20 years. The focus on Islamic extremism also allowed us to turn a blind eye to the menace within. However, the events of 1/6 indicate that ethno-religious extremism is a plague that must be dealt with in many countries and religions. As we consider the danger to democracy posed by the resurgence of the Taliban in Afghanistan, we need to also examine the role of White Christian nationalism in undermining democracy and civil rights. We need to ask difficult questions about whether we can protect religious rights and human rights simultaneously. And critically, we need to consider the positive role that moderate religious organizations can take in supporting democracy in each country. This anniversary of 9/11 presents us with the opportunity to do just that.

When the terrorist attacks occurred, I had just left a year-long position sponsored by the Council on Foreign Relations at the White House, working for both the Clinton and Bush administrations. I served as Director of European and Eurasian Affairs at the National Security Council with a portfolio encompassing 11 countries from Central Asia to the Caucasus and the Aegean. Upon my arrival at the NSC in 2000, I quickly saw that my colleagues were obsessed with Osama bin Laden, or OBL as they called him, and tracking his every move. I had never heard of him. Richard A. Clarke, in charge of counter-terrorism at the NSC, and his colleagues quickly filled me in. When Bush and his team took office in January 2001, they didn’t have the same focus on OBL and al Qaeda. The public record, including the report of the 9/11 Commission, makes clear how frustrated Clarke was that National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice and others were not giving OBL and al Qaeda the attention Clarke felt they deserved. All I could think of when the terrorist attacks occurred was: What if this hadn’t been a transition period in the US Government? What if the Clinton team had still been in office? Given the longstanding communication problems among the relevant government agencies (made clear in the 9/11 Commission Report), perhaps the same thing would have happened. Yet there is no way around the fact that while transitions of power are essential in a democracy, they also can leave the country vulnerable. The new administration usually has its own priorities and, particularly when the predecessor is from the other party, trusting the predecessor’s assessments does not necessarily come naturally.

9/11 had mixed effects on academic Middle East Studies.  On the one hand, the study of Islam and the broader Middle East became hotly politicized, with new experts on terrorism with little knowledge of the region flooding the media, op-ed pages, and bookstores. The supposed failure of the field to anticipate the terrorist attacks became the wedge for a broader attack on Middle East Studies as a whole.  The demands of the post-9/11 policy agenda pushed funders and some scholars towards a narrow basket of questions such as terrorism, radical Islamist movements, and—after the 2003 invasion—Iraq. The ability to justify U.S. foreign policy decisions, align ideologically with the Bush administration, or to inform counterterrorism initiatives often outweighed language skills, regional expertise, or scholarship on themes unrelated to terrorism.  On the other hand, the post-9/11 surge of interest in the Middle East and the flood of students interested in the Middle East pouring into graduate programs fueled demand for qualified faculty.  As the war on terror and the occupation of Iraq dragged on, the demand for genuine expertise also grew within the U.S. government and the broader policy world, opening up unprecedented opportunities for Middle East scholars to effectively engage and inform the policy process.  Finally, the rise of social media in this period allowed a wide range of scholars, junior and senior alike, to engage the public sphere in novel ways, with their blogs, short essays and Twitter feeds reaching journalists and policymakers alike. 

9/11 had a profound impact on my work on international security and South Asia. In the weeks and months after 9/11, I saw the way that the idea of extremism and terrorism in the western popular mind and within the security community worldview, became invariably linked to ethnic and religious factors. This was deeply disturbing to me since the dominant history of South Asia is notable for tolerance and coexistence, despite highly plural societies. Besides, much of the post-9/11 analysis was from a U.S. policy perspective with little theoretical or historical content—and for a region with an overabundance of history and political complexity—this was completely misguided. I wanted to challenge what I feared was fast becoming conventional wisdom and ended up writing an entire book to do so! In my book, The Politics of Extremism in South Asia (Cambridge, 2008), I argue that the main drivers of extremism in South Asia are external geopolitical factors that combine with specific interests of state elites to subvert domestic historical identities that tended to be inclusive. Twenty years on, our academic understanding of extremism in South Asia has become better but our policies still leave much to be desired. 

9/11 certainly did impact US-China relations, as the then new Bush 43 administration had strategic competition with China in its sights as the No. 1 foreign and military policy priority—but with 9/11 China all of a sudden became a key “partner” in the “global war on terror” (GWOT). Chinese President Jiang Zemin was reported to have witnessed the planes hitting the twin towers in New York live on CNN, and immediately thereafter the Chinese government tried to put through a (secure) phone call from Jiang to President Bush. Of course, Bush was in no position to receive such a call, but a few weeks later the two leaders spoke and President Jiang offered the United States China’s full cooperation against al-Qaeda and attacking the Taliban (this included briefly permitting overflights of Chinese territory to bomb the Taliban). It was very astute of Jiang and the Chinese government to take advantage of 9/11 in this way, as it took Washington’s strategic focus off of Beijing and it bought nearly eight years of relatively smooth, stable, and constructive US-China relations. The relationship has never been as stable or cooperative since.

The 9/11 attacks had a significant impact on security studies as a discipline. Terrorism was studied prior to September 11, 2001. Indeed, some of the most important theoretical insights we have about political violence come from the classic literature on terrorism authored decades before the major attacks by al-Qaeda. But what happened after 9/11 was that the study of terrorism acquired high level prominence within the field of security studies. There was increased public interest in this phenomenon, a plethora of publications were dedicated to analyzing terrorism, scholars debriefed decision-makers, and even journalists cited academic works on terrorism. Terrorism was no longer seen as an intrinsic characteristic of the developing world, an effect of post-colonialism, or constrained to just Europe and the Middle East. The role of non-state actors in shaping insecurity, threat, and risk was taken much more seriously by the security sector after 2001. Yet, despite the large body of contemporary literature produced since 9/11, the main questions remain: Can terrorism be defeated with military force? What type of measures can governments put in place to avoid future terrorist attacks? How much security should citizens tolerate in the name of counterterrorism? Should state authorities engage in negotiations with terrorists to achieve peace? What is the relationship between political regimes and terrorism? My biggest fear about post-9/11 is historical amnesia in academia and policy-making circles. Policymakers tend to focus their attention on the current challenges and have virtually no time to think about the past, let alone reflect on the lessons learned from 9/11. Hence, amnesia is frequently the source of major policy mistakes, that is until the next major terrorist attack occurs. Security studies scholars have thus a commitment to continue studying terrorism rigorously and systematically; after all, terrorism is not a fad or a single incident. We also have an obligation to expose our current students—future policy makers—to the mistakes made by the United States in the aftermath of 9/11: walls were built to protect garrison states; human rights abuses were justified in the name of safety wars by choice were declared; and a culture of “fear of the other” emerged. Understanding the imperfection of our very own acts—and policies—is also part of the learning process.