March 16, 2019 5.00pm EDT
When lives are tragically cut short, it is generally easier to explain
the “how” than the “why”. This dark reality is all the more felt when
tragedy comes at the hands of murderous intent. Explaining how 50 people
came to be killed, and almost as many badly injured, in Christchurch’s
double massacre of Muslims at prayer is heartbreaking but relatively
straightforward.
As with so many mass murders in recent years, the use of an assault rifle, the ubiquitous AR15, oxymoronically referred to as “the civilian M-16”, explains how one cowardly killer could be so lethal.
It is a credit to the peaceful nature of New Zealand society that,
despite the open availability of weapons like the AR15, the last time
there was a mass shooting was in 1997.
Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern rightly identified reform of gun laws as
one of the immediate outcomes required in response to this tragedy.
But lax gun laws are arguably the only area in which blame can be laid
in New Zealand. Ardern, together with Australian Prime Minister Scott
Morrison, was also right to refer to this barbaric act of cold-blooded
murder of people in prayer as right wing extremist terrorism driven by
Islamophobic hatred.
State and federal police in Australia have long warned that, next to the immediate threat posed by Salafi jihadi terrorism,
they are most concerned about the steady rise of right-wing extremism.
There has been some comfort in the recognition that the most active
right wing extremist groups, and there are many, are disorganised,
poorly led, and attract but small crowds.
On the face of it, then, right wing extremism in Australia is nowhere
near as serious as the neo-Nazi movements of Europe or the various
permutations of white supremacy and toxic nationalism that bedevil
American politics. In America, it is conservatively estimated that there
were 50 deaths due to terrorist attacks in 2018, almost all linked to right-wing extremism.
In 2017, it is calculated that there were 950 attacks on Muslims and mosques in Germany alone.
Many of last year’s attacks in America involved a common right wing
extremist hatred of Islam, and a targeting of Muslims, joining a
long-standing enmity towards Jews.
Almost all recent terrorist attacks have been lone-actor attacks.
They are notoriously difficult to predict. Whether inspired by Salafi
jihadi Islamist extremism or right wing extremism, lone-actor attacks
commonly feature individuals fixated on the deluded dream of going from
“zero to hero”.
One of the main reasons authorities struggle with identifying right wing
extremist “nobodies” who post online, before they turn to violence, is
that it’s difficult to pick up a clear signal in the noise of a national
discourse increasingly dominated by exactly the same narrative elements
of mistrust, anxiety, and a blaming of the other.
In Australia, as in Europe and America, mainstream politicians and
mainstream media commentators have increasingly toyed with extremist
ideas in the pursuit of popularity. Many have openly brandished
outrageous ideas that in previous years would have been unsayable in
mainstream political discourse or commentary.
Donald Trump can be deservedly singled out for making the unspeakable
the new normal in mainstream right wing politics, but he is hardly alone
in this. And sadly, for all of the relative civility and stability of
Australian politics, we too have now come to normalise the toxic
politics of fear.
No-one put it better than The Project host Waleed Aly in saying that
Friday’s terrorist attacks, although profoundly disturbing, did not come
as a shocking surprise. Anyone who has been paying attention and who
really cares about the well-being and security of Australian society has
observed the steady growth of right wing extremist and right
supremacist ideas in general, and Islamophobia particular.
“You’ll have to forgive me, these won’t be my best words...”
They have seen the numerous attacks on Muslims and Jews at prayer and
worried about the day when the murderous violence that has plagued the
northern hemisphere will visit the southern hemisphere. But more than
that, they have worried about the singling-out of migrants, and in
particular asylum seekers, African youth and Muslims as pawns to be
played with in the cynical politics of fear.
Scott Morrison is right to say these problems have been with us for many
years. But he would do better to point out that our downward trajectory
sharply accelerated after John Howard’s “dark victory” of 2001. The
unwinnable election was won on the back of the arrival of asylum seekers
on the MV Tampa in August followed by the September 11 attacks, and at the price of John Howard and the Liberal party embracing the white supremacist extremist politics of Pauline Hanson.
Both major parties, it must be said, succumbed to the lure of giving
focus groups and pollsters the tough language and inhumane policies the
public appeared to demand and reward. We are now beginning to see the
true price that we have paid with the demonising of those arriving by
boat seeking asylum, or looking too dark-skinned, or appearing too
religious.
The result has been such a cacophony of hateful rhetoric that it has
been hard for those tasked with spotting the emergence of violent
extremism to separate it from all the background noise of extremism.
There are, of course lessons to be learned. Authorities need to do
better. We can begin with a national database of hate crimes, with
standard definitions and robust data collection. Clearly, we need to pay
attention to hateful extremism if we are to prevent violent extremism.
But ultimately, we need to address the permissive political environment
that allows such hateful extremism to be promulgated so openly. The onus
is on commentators and political leaders alike. They cannot change the
past, but they will determine the future.
March 16, 2019 5.00pm EDT