On 9/11 I was the Ambassador of Paraguay to the OAS having breakfast with my Minister of Foreign Relations and other members of our Delegation at a hotel in Lima, Peru. We were participating in the Extraordinary General Assembly to approve the Inter American Democratic Charter. Sitting two tables apart was Secretary of State Colin Powell with his entourage.
Suddenly we saw images of the horrific attack on the Twin Towers on the big television screens of the hotel’s restaurant. Secretary Powell took a cell call and rushed out of the place.
Very quickly thereafter the session to approve the Charter was convened ahead of the scheduled time. Secretary Powell gave a powerful but brief presentation and left for the US. It was a moving moment. A commitment to democracy was approved unanimously in the midst of a terrorist attack. A stark contrast between the world we want and the dangers we face.
The Middle East has long been a site for the exercise of imperial rivalries and hegemonic ambitions, but the totalizing impact of the Global War on Terror launched in the aftermath of 9/11 reshaped the region in a way that previous conflicts did not. Scholars of the Middle East experienced the impact of the events of 9/11 most profoundly because of their direct experiences living in and studying a region that became synonymous with terrorist violence, religious extremism and repression of women and minorities in the minds of many Americans. For International Affairs theorists the post-9/11 forever war was primarily a theoretical and strategic issue whereas for MES scholars it was about seeing their sites of study transform into a permanent war zone. The reverberations of the US ‘forever wars’ reached physically into every corner of the region and loomed intellectually over every exercise of scholarly inquiry. It became impossible to examine even seemingly innocuous topics like cultural heritage preservation without grappling with the impacts of a widespread US military presence and increased support for friendly autocratic regimes that promised cooperation in the GWOT. Middle East studies has always been a site of controversy, but the Islamophobia and xenophobia that metastasized in the wake of 9/11 has left an indelible mark on the trajectory of the discipline and the very nature of the questions we ask ourselves as scholars.
Seen from Russia, 9/11 had a substantial impact on the Putin regime, then still in its infancy. The events of 9/11, which occurred less than 18 months after Vladimir Putin was elected president, confirmed the view of the new Russian elite that terrorism constituted the main threat to developed nations and should be fought using the harshest means. The War on Terror launched by the United States in response to 9/11 was thus used by Russia as a pretext for repressive policies toward anything and everything associated—rightly or wrongly—with Islamism, in particular the insurgencies in the North Caucasus. Simultaneously, 9/11 opened a unique window of cooperation between Washington, DC, and Moscow: Putin decided—over the objections of Russia’s Security Council and Armed Forces—to open a Russian military base to U.S. forces en route to Afghanistan and to allow Uzbekistan, and later Kyrgyzstan, to host U.S. bases. While both the bilateral relationship and the international context have changed dramatically over the past two decades, this last point invites us to remember that the US and Russia have been able to find areas of cooperation when both have needed them.
The year before 9/11, in October 2000, women’s rights activists were allowed into the chambers of the UN Security Council (UNSC) for the first time! There they highlighted the discriminatory gender norms that make women more vulnerable to certain forms of violence, such as conflict related sexual violence. They called on the UN and member states to put in place gender inclusive mechanisms, such as the participation of women in formal peace and security processes, peace talks, peacekeeping, and countering violent extremism. UNSCR 1325 (2000) was adopted and since then nine more resolutions which make up the Women, Peace & Security Agenda (WPS). And, while this was an important step forward, the implementation of the WPS Agenda and its impact on national and international security has not been realized. For example, not enough attention has been paid to how women are targeted and recruited by extremist groups. In 2017, the Global Extremism Monitor registered the numbers of women involved in suicide attacks increasing, with 181 women involved in 100 suicide attacks that year[1]. Paternalistic attitudes towards women have been utilized to justify military action such as the invasion of Afghanistan. And yet, in the recent withdrawal of U.S. and NATO troops, we see once again that the security of women and girls’ is no longer a priority, as they await their fate under the control of the new Taliban government. The creation of the WPS Agenda has raised awareness of the need for the incorporation of gender analysis to enable holistic understandings of complex security environments. It has also driven new research and new movements for change such as the rise in feminist foreign policies adopted by countries such as Mexico and Canada. Yet, there is still too much talk and not enough action. We have ample evidence linking gender equality and women’s status with a country’s stability, prosperity and security.[2] It is time now for ideas about women’s inclusion as a ‘soft’ security matter to be relegated to last century and for gender equality to be taken seriously, not only for the sake of women and girls somewhere, but for the sake of peace and security everywhere.
A government-centric understanding of the response to 9/11 would surely focus on the most harrowing decision that the executive branch made that morning, when Vice-President Cheney ordered U.S. fighter pilots to shoot down hijacked airliners – which he understood were on their way to take out the White House or the Capitol. As best we can tell through the fog of war that characterized all events of that day, Cheney gave the order at 10:15am. By then, however, the attack had already been over for 12 minutes. The last hijacked plane, United 93, had in fact crashed near Shanksville, PA at 10:03am. The sole instance when the terrorists’ plans were defeated on 9/11 came about not because of any decision made by the White House or the FAA or NORAD; but because the plane’s passengers chose to confront what they now realized was a suicide mission. In other words, the “most powerful government in the world” arguably had no impact whatsoever on the unfolding of the attacks. The 9/11 Commission Report later estimated that the plot cost Al-Qaida no more than $500,000; while the cost of its impact, and of the U.S.’ response, is measured in trillions. These are the sort of shocking realizations that soon caused some analysts to speak of the “end of power”. At least, we have been witnessing the era-defining “flattening” and redistribution of power towards the grassroots; towards web-enabled, nebulous, shape-shifting, hypercomplex networks of unthinkably-empowered individuals, in an environment where most barriers to entry into strategic and high-political relevance have essentially been removed. In the mid-20th century, the Annals School revolutionized the field of History by arguing that socio-economic and cultural dynamics rooted in long-term evolutions were a more potent causal factor, hence a more useful field of inquiry than the usual lists of kings, battles, and treaties. Twenty years on from 9/11, those of us who teach in a field that – by the way – we still insist on calling inter-*national* relations, should pause and ponder: where is our own “Annals School”? Are we teaching governance – or are we teaching power?
What is the meaning of 9/11? This is a question which will be much asked as we approach the 20th 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.