SICKOS OF THE WORLD, UNITE ! (What strange religion... that keeps generating strangely sick cases ?)
Police in Kishoreganj yesterday (28 October) arrested the man who entered a classroom wielding a stick in the capital's Sir Salimullah Medical College on Sunday (27 October), reports Prothom Alo. The arrested youth has been identified as Zubair Ali (Taki), said Abdullah Al Mamun, the officer-in-charge of Kishoreganj Sadar Model Police Station. A video of the Sunday incident that spread on social media showed the man entering the lecture gallery of Sir Salimullah Medical College with a stick in his hand and his head wrapped in a black bandana. He shouted and struck the floor with the stick, causing panic among the students in the class. The college authorities notified the law enforcement agencies, but the young man had left the scene before the police arrived. "Instructions for Zubair's arrest were issued from Dhaka soon after the video of the incident went viral on social media. The youth was arrested after reviewing the video footage. A team from the Kotwali Police Station took him to Dhaka last night," OC Abdullah Al Mamun told Prothom Alo. Citing the family, he said, "The family members of the arrested individual have informed that he has some mental health issues. "However, we cannot comment further without advice from a medical professional," he added.
The Business Standard (October 29, 2024)
tbsnews.net/bangladesh/youthâŚ
Arenât those the guys that always go crazy and shoot everybody?
George (Seinfeld)
The simplest surrealist act consists of taking to the streets with a gun in hand and firing at random into the crowd as long as you can.
AndrĂŠ Breton
There are some of them (Javanese) who if they fall ill of any severe illness vow to God that if they remain in health they will of their ⌠and as soon as they get well they take a dagger in their hands, and go out into the streets and kill as many persons as they meet, ⌠These are called amuco.
Duarte Barbosa (1516)
To run amock is to get drunk with opium⌠to sally forth from the house, kill the person or persons supposed to have injured the Amock, and any other person that attempts to impede his passage.
Captain James Cook (1772)
Itâs madness, a kind of human rage⌠a fit of senseless, murderous obsession. Itâs undoubtedly linked, in some way, to the climate, to that dense, stifling atmosphere that weighs on the nerves like a storm, until they snap⌠A Malay man, any ordinary, gentle man, is peacefully drinking his beverage⌠he sits there, listlessly, indifferent and listless⌠and suddenly he leaps up, grabs his dagger, and rushes into the street⌠he runs straight ahead, always ahead, without knowing where⌠Whatever crosses his path, man or animal, he slays with his kris, and the smell of blood makes him even more violent⌠As he runs, drool forms at his lips, he screams like a man possessed⌠but he runs, runs, runs, no longer looking left, no longer looking right, doing nothing but running with a shrill scream, holding his bloodstained kris straight ahead of him in this terrifying dash⌠The villagers know that no power in the world can stop an amok⌠and when they see him coming, they shout, from as far away as they can, as a warning: âAmok! Amok!â and everyone flees⌠But he, hearing nothing, continues his run; he runs without hearing, he runs without seeing, he strikes down everything he encounters⌠until he is shot down like a rabid dog or collapses, utterly exhausted and foaming at the mouth.
Stefan Zweig (1922)
Individual Islamists may appear law-abiding and reasonable, but they are part of a totalitarian movement, and as such, all must be considered potential killers (...) a just-graduated student named Mohammed Reza Taheri-azar, 22, and an Iranian immigrant, drove a sport utility vehicle into a crowded pedestrian zone. He struck nine people but, fortunately, none were severely injured. (...) Mr. Taheri-azar represents the ultimate Islamist nightmare: a seemingly well-adjusted Muslim whose religion inspires him, out of the blue, to murder non-Muslims. Mr. Taheri-azar acknowledged planning his jihad for more than two years, or during his university sojourn. It's not hard to imagine how his ideas developed, given the coherence of Islamist ideology, its immense reach (including a Muslim Student Association at UNC), and its resonance among many Muslims. Were Mr. Taheri-azar unique in his surreptitious adoption of radical Islam, one could ignore his case, but he fits into a widespread pattern of Muslims who lead quiet lives before turning to terrorism. (...) This is what I have dubbed the Sudden Jihad Syndrome, whereby normal-appearing Muslims abruptly become violent. It has the awful but legitimate consequence of casting suspicion on all Muslims. Who knows whence the next jihadi? How can one be confident a law-abiding Muslim will not suddenly erupt in a homicidal rage? Yes, of course, their numbers are very small, but they are disproportionately much higher than among non-Muslims. This syndrome helps explain the fear of Islam and mistrust of Muslims that polls have shown on the rise since September 11, 2001. The Muslim response of denouncing these views as bias, as the "new anti-Semitism," or "Islamophobia" is as baseless as accusing anti-Nazis of "Germanophobia" or anti-Communists of "Russophobia." Instead of presenting themselves as victims, Muslims should address this fear by developing a moderate, modern, and good-neighborly version of Islam that rejects radical Islam, jihad, and the subordination of "infidels."
Daniel Pipes (2006)
The debate rests on the question about whether the presence of a mental health diagnosis is enough to state that it was a driver of the radicalization-linked behavior or whether it was just one ingredient in the individualâs vulnerability profile and grievance structure. (...) This debate is on-going within the wider study of crime as well. On the one hand, a strand of research assumes a consistent causal link between psychiatric symptoms (where they are found to be present) and criminal behavior. On the other hand, a more nuanced strand of research argues there are âa (small) group of offenders whose symptoms relate directly to crime and a (larger) group whose symptoms and crimes are not directly related.â For example, various studies illustrate that the offender (across a range of crimes) experienced his/her psychiatric symptoms at the time of the (often violent) crime between 4% and 18% of the time. There is no reason to suggest this should be any different for a terrorist subset of offenders. If anything, one might presume the figures to be lower given the wider ideology and ideologues underpinning it provide a grievance and set of instructions on who to target and how. A complex mixture of personality, situational, and personal drivers (among others) likely drives most general crime. Terrorism is no different but for the addition of an overarching ideology. The presence of this ideology in the motivational mix therefore likely lessens the relative cognitive response to mental health problems. It is simply too early to come to a definitive answer regarding the role of mental health problems and various forms of Islamic State terrorism. Mental disorders appear more prevalent among those inspired by Islamic State than those directed by it. Beyond that, however, it is difficult to make clear conclusions. The available open-source information is clouded by poor reporting practices, the tendency to treat all mental health disorders equally, and the fetishized way mental health is reported. The answer is likely to differ wildly from case to case depending upon the individualâs diagnosis, prior life experiences, co-existence of other stressors and vulnerabilities, and lack of protective factors. (...) What we see from the existing research is that lone-actor terrorism is usually the culmination of a complex mix of personal, political, and social drivers that crystalize at the same time to drive the individual down the path of violent action. This should be no different for those inspired by the Islamic State. Whether the violence comes to fruition is usually a combination of the availability and vulnerability of suitable targets and the individualâs capability to engage in an attack from both a psychological and technical capability standpoint. Many individual cases share a mixture of personal life circumstances coupled with an intensification of beliefs that later developed into the idea to engage in violence. What differs is how these influences were sequenced. Sometimes personal problems led to a susceptibility to ideological influences. Sometimes long-held ideological influences became intensified after the experience of personal problems. This is why we should be wary of mono-causal âmaster narrativesâ about how this process unfolds. Mental health problems are undoubtedly important in some cases. Intuitively, we might see how in some cases it can make carrying out violence easier. In other cases, it may make the adoption of the ideology easier because of delusional thinking or fixated behaviors. However, it will only ever be one of many drivers in an individualâs pathway to violence. In many cases, it may be present but completely unrelated. The development of radicalization and attack planning behaviors is usually far more labyrinthine and dynamic than one single factor can explain, be it mental disorders (todayâs go-to silver-bullet explanation), online radicalization (another popular silver-bullet explanation), or root causes that encompass socio-demographic characteristics. We must also bear in mind that the relationship between mental health problems and terrorist engagement is just one part of the story. Given the scale and types of violence being conducted by the Islamic State, many perpetrators will develop mental health problems as a byproduct of involvement as opposed to it being a driver of involvement. There will also be a generation of children who were born within the Islamic State and/or trained as fighters, many of whom will return to their parentsâ country of origin in the coming years. The interface of mental health practitioners and the Islamic State will, therefore, not just be limited to assessing the risk of whether someone will become a terrorist but will be extended to safeguarding and treatment. In conclusion, after many years in the dark, the link between mental health problems and terrorist engagement is now often the âgo-toâ explanation. This is partially due to the studies, cited above, that showed the relatively high rates within specific terrorist sub-samples. These studies coalesced in time with an uptick in Islamic State lone-actor plots and attacks and were latched onto by media, the public and policymaker communities hungry for intuitively appealing and straightforward answers. Much of the nuance within these studies was lost, however. Just because a factor (such as mental disorder) was present, does not make it causal. Nor does it necessarily make it facilitative. It may be completely irrelevant altogether. Contemporary media reporting may have led to a potentially overinflated sense of how prevalent the link truly is and how closely tied it is to the individualâs pathway into terrorism.
Emily Corner and Paul Gill (2017)
If we once focused on postal conditions and security at post-office installations when workers (between 1986 and 1997) snapped under the thematic pretense of job stress, and if we investigated the nexus of video games, drugs, cults, and counter-culture alienation when suburban youths went on shooting sprees, then it seems legitimate to look for commonalities when someone self-identifies as a rather radical Muslim and shouts ÂŤ Allahu Akbar! Âť as he fires â in the same manner that the mad driver in North Carolina, or the killer in Seattle, or the homicidal driver in San Francisco afterwards said they were acting out of Islamic religious fervor against Jews or Westerners.
Victor Davis Hanson (2009
Radicalisation is a youth revolt against society, articulated on an Islamic religious narrative of jihad. It is not the uprising of a Muslim community that is victim to poverty and racism: only young people join, including converts who did not share the âsufferingâ of Muslims in Europe. These rebels without a cause find in jihad a noble and global cause, and are consequently instrumentalised by a radical organisation (al Qaeda, ISIS), that has a strategic agenda. There are no psychiatrically specific patterns for radicals. Some come from dysfunctional families, some from ânormalâ families. Some second-generation radicalised Muslims have a family (and often a recent one) with young children (...) Frustration and resentment against society seems to be the only âpsychologicalâ trait often shared. Psychologists who study radicalisation (Fethi Benslama in France, for instance) detect a psychological (not psychiatric) state of âsuffering,â a discrepancy between expectations and social outcome, a need for recognition â in other words, a narcissistic crisis that makes radicals more open either to nihilism or to the narrative of heroism that al Qaeda or ISIS offers. The religious dimension gives them a framework of personal restructuration: the truth, the good, a clear set of norms, brothers in arms, an unambiguous objective, and salvation, although the latter is not necessarily understood in terms of the paradise as described in the Koran. In fact, few of them speak explicitly about paradise. The nihilist dimension (revenge, suicide) seems to supersede the utopian one (to build a new and just society). (...) The majority of the radicals come from second-generation Muslims born in Europe, and most of the others are converts; almost none came as a young adult or as a teenager to Europe from the Middle East. Apart from that, there is no common sociological background â or, more exactly, the Muslim radicals share the sociological background of most second-generation Muslims (some are not integrated, others have diplomas and jobs), while converts come from diverse milieus (mainly working class and lower middle class). (...) Many have histories of petty delinquency and drug dealing. Before turning born-again or converts, they shared a youth culture that had nothing to do with Islam. But most of them share the pattern of a sudden and rapid âreturnâ to religion (or conversion) immediately followed by political radicalisation. There is a clear âbreaking point,â often linked with a personal crisis (jail, for instance). It is clearly a youth movement. Almost all of them became radicalised to the dismay of their parents and relatives (a huge difference if we compare them with Palestinian radicals). Most parents not only disapprove of their childrenâs radicalisation but also actively try to bring them back or even to have them arrested by the police. In this sense the radicals donât express an anger shared by their milieus or by the Muslim âcommunity.â It is also a peer phenomenon: whatever the concrete circumstances of their meeting may be (neighbourhood, jail, internet or sports clubs), the radicalisation takes place in the framework of a small network of friends. This puts them at frequent odds with the traditional view of family and women in Islam. These groups are often mixed in gender terms, and the women often play a far more important role than they themselves claim (as Hayat Boumeddiene did in the Charlie Hebdo killersâ team). They intermarry among themselves, without their parentsâ consent. In this sense they are closer to the ultra-left groups of the 1970s. There is often a siblingsâ solidarity: many radicalise following a brotherâs radicalisation (pairs of brothers include the Kouachis and the Abdeslams). Very few of them had a history of militancy, either political (pro-Palestinian movements) or religious (local mosques, Tabligh, Muslim Brothers or even mainstream Salafism). They were almost never pillars of a local Muslim congregation. Contrary to a widely shared belief, they never mobilised for Palestine and (almost) never spent time with the Muslim Brothers. (...) In other words, their radicalisation is not the consequence of a long-term maturation either in a political movement (Palestine, extreme left, extreme right) or in an Islamic environment. It is a relatively sudden individual jump into violence, often after trying something else (Mohamed Merah, for instance, tried to enlist in the French army). The recruitment process follows different patterns. The more common seems the radicalisation inside a small network of peers, where nominal Muslims and non-Muslims meet because they live in the same neighbourhood, share the same patterns of petty delinquency, found themselves together in jail, or are members of the same family (like the Kouachis). This tightly knit network dimension is often reinforced by matrimonial links (marriage to the sister of oneâs own friend, for instance). Some âlone wolvesâ follow a process of self-radicalisation and try to get in touch with more hardened radicals. A final process is recruitment through the internet, which mainly involves young women who are systematically and rapidly contacted when they inquire online about Daesh, jihad or Islam in general. For the others, the internet doesnât seem to be the place of recruitment but a tool of communication, propaganda and information. The unusually high proportion of converts has been systematically overlooked because it contradicts the (culturalist) idea that individual radicalisation reflects the radicalisation of a frustrated Muslim community. (...) The main motivation of young men joining jihad seems to be the fascination for a narrative we could call âthe small brotherhood of super-heroes who avenge the Muslim ummahâ: This ummah is global and abstract, and never identified with a national cause (Palestine, or even the Syrian or Iraqi nations). In Iraq the foreign volunteers donât identify with the local Arab population they are supposed to support (which is why they need either imported spouses or sex slaves). Palestine is not at the core of the mobilisation process. (Palestinians are mainly supported by progressive people and cultural Muslims, not by the Salafists, because theirs is seen as a âprofaneâ cause.) The narrative is built using schemes taken from the contemporary youth culture, including video games like Call of Duty. The narrative is âstagedâ using not only modern techniques, but also very contemporary aesthetics, with a special role for aesthetics of violence, which is also found in places with no Islamic reference (Columbine, the Mexican Narcos). Two âfiguresâ are of particular importance: the suicide bomber and the chevalier, the first being linked with what I call a âgenerational nihilism,â the second with video games. In both cases what is at stake is self-realisation (as an answer to frustration). The revolt is expressed in religious terms for two reasons. First, most of the radicals have a Muslim background, which makes them open to a process of re-Islamisation (almost none of them having been pious before entering the process of radicalisation). Second, jihad is the only cause on the global market. If you kill in silence, it will be reported by the local newspaper; if you kill yelling âAllahuakbar,â you are sure to make the national headlines. The ultra-left or radical ecology is too bourgeois and intellectual for them. When they join jihad, they adopt the Salafi version of Islam because Salafism is both simple to understand (donâts and doâs) and rigid, providing a personal psychological structuring effect. Moreover, Salafism is the negation of cultural Islam, the Islam of their parents and of their roots. Instead of providing them with roots, Salafism glorifies their own deculturation and makes them feel like better Muslims than their parents. Salafism is the religion, by definition, of a disenfranchised youngster. Incidentally, we should make a distinction between religious radicalisation and jihadist radicalisation. There is of course an overlap, but the bulk of the Salafists are not jihadist, and many jihadists donât give a damn about theology. None of the radicals has a past history of piety. Most of them either broke with the Islam of their parents or had no religious transmission from their parents (which may be because they are converts, or orphans, like the Kouachi brothers, or had non-practising parents). Almost none followed a real process of religious education. Their religious knowledge is small (some brought with them Islam for Dummies). When they said that they were going to learn Islam in Pakistan or Yemen, it was to appease their parents: in fact, they go for jihad. Radicals have a loose or no connection with the Muslim communities in Europe. A sense of surprise tends to be evident in the aftermath of a terrorist action. Investigators and journalists who meet the family and the entourage of the attacker are told the same story: âHe was a quiet, nice boy (variation: he was just a petty delinquent), and he was not pious, drank alcohol, had girls etc., except that recently his attitude has drastically changed.â Few of them were regular âparishionersâ in a local mosque. None of them was active in religious activities (proselytism): when they preach Islam it is to recruit other radicals, not to spread the good news. This explains why (1) the close monitoring of mosques brings little information; (2) imams have little or no influence on the process of radicalisation; (3) âreforming Islamâ does not make sense: they just donât care about âwhat Islam really means.â There is no theological dimension. Their knowledge of Islam is minimal and they donât care, although the religious myth plays an emotional role. We tend too much to identify religion with theology (what does Islam say about jihad?); while there is certainly an important religious dimension in the way they experience their struggle, it is not an ideological rationalisation of Islamic theology. Religiosity, not theology, is the key. They are not the vanguard of a European (or Middle Eastern) Muslim community that would tend to see them as heroes. On the contrary, they have little connection with this community, they have broken with their families (the fact that they desperately try to convert their families shows their degree of estrangement, not of proximity), and they donât arouse fascination except of course among their peers. They donât even reconnect with a real Muslim local society in Syria or Yemen. To promote a âmoderate Islamâ to bring radicals back to the mainstream is nonsense. They just reject moderation as such. To ask the âMuslim communityâ to bring radicals back to normal life is also nonsense. Radicals just donât care about people they consider as traitors, apostates or collaborators as long as they donât choose the same path. To consider Islam only through the lens of âfighting terrorismâ will validate the narrative of persecution and revenge that feeds the process of radicalisation. The priority, beyond building a more sophisticated intelligence system, is to debunk the narrative of heroism, to break the âsuccess storyâ of ISIS as being invincible (including on the ground) and to let Islam in Europe appear as a ânormalâ religion. (...) The aim is to accentuate the estrangement of radicals from the Muslim population and to dry up the narrative of Islam as the religion of the oppressed.
Olivier Roy (2015)
We can no longer tell the difference between revolutionary terrorism and a madman shooting into a crowd. Humanity is preparing to plunge into utter madness. Perhaps this is necessary. Terrorism forces Westerners to reflect on how far we have come in the last two thousand years. Certain forms of violence now seem intolerable to us. We would no longer accept Samson shaking the pillars of the Temple and perishing while killing everyone with him. Our fundamental contradiction is that we are the beneficiaries of Christianity in our relationship to violence and that we have abandoned it without realizing that we were dependent on it.
RenĂŠ Girard
The same cultural and spiritual force that played such a decisive role in the disappearance of human sacrifice is now bringing about the disappearance of the human sacrifice rituals that once replaced it. All this seems to be good news, but only on the condition that those who relied on these ritual resources are able to replace them with sustainable religious resources of a different kind. Depriving a society of the rudimentary sacrificial resources on which it depends without offering alternatives is to plunge it into a crisis that will almost certainly lead to violence.
Gil Bailie (2008)
jcdurbant.wordpress.com/2009âŚ