Rational actors

Growing up, I tried to understand the problems of terrorism, radicalisation and fundamentalism. In the late 1960s, I lived in Northern Ireland when things were breaking down into violence. As I tried to understand it as a young person, I was bothered that all the explanations were based on rational actors. According to these explanations, people were attempting to achieve what they judged to be in their best socioeconomic and power interests.

However, it was apparent to me, living in an affected community, that nobody was benefiting. Everybody was suffering in a bad situation that was only getting worse. Although I don’t mean to suggest we shouldn’t attempt to understand why terrorists do what they do, it didn’t seem to me that a purely rational point of view was sufficient.

Religion and extremist violence

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I remember a long conversation I had with Abu Qatada, who was the European leader of Al Qaeda. Initially, I assumed that the religious dimension of the violence was as essential to him as it is to me. However, as I explored the topic with him, he stopped me and said, ‘Well, I’m perfectly happy for us to talk about our religious agreements and disagreements, but the reason for the violence is not to do with that. It’s a political problem. It’s a problem of external forces controlling our part of the world, and we can’t find any other way to get rid of them.’ That was a fascinating perspective, and our conversation took a different turn from what I had expected.

There was a rational element to all of that, but we can think of all sorts of things one would consider rational. We could have a conversation about what to change in the world, but it doesn’t necessarily mean we want to go and sacrifice our lives doing it. Doing so requires something else, something compelling, in terms of our feelings. We need to have powerful emotional drivers and cognitive drivers to behave in such a drastic manner.

The drivers of terrorism

What might those drivers be? From my conversations with those involved in terrorism, it seems that one constant in all of these communities is a sense of humiliation and disrespect. These individuals feel their community has been set aside, humiliated, disrespected and disregarded.

Indeed, there’s something particularly toxic about humiliation. For instance, you and I could have a conversation about something we disagree about, and, in the end, we can simply agree to differ and have a drink together. Our disagreement doesn’t necessarily destroy the relationship.

However, if I say something to you that is deeply humiliating – especially if I say it in front of friends – it will be difficult for us to have a good relationship afterwards. Furthermore, even decades later, when we meet, you will immediately remember what I said and how horrible it made you feel.

Sure enough, there’s something about humiliation that is profoundly toxic to individual relationships and communal relationships, too. The toxicity is so severe that even if the strife’s original cause disappears, the related feelings remain and continue to be impactful.

Terrorism, radicalisation and fundamentalism

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People consider terrorism, radicalisation and fundamentalism as part of the same package. Sure enough, they’re part of a set of responses that are not rational but instead infused with emotion. However, they are also distinct.

In the case of radicalisation and the resultant terrorism, there are these profound feelings of humiliation, disrespect, unfairness, and inability to change a bad situation. With fundamentalism, however, it seems something different is occurring. More specifically, people as a community are feeling profoundly anxious about something.

As people develop as individuals and as communities, our thinking becomes more complex and sophisticated. We begin to understand that issues are not merely black and white but that there are many shades of grey. When dealing with other people or other countries, we allow for some complexity in the way we engage.

Nevertheless, when we break down either an individual mental illness or a community disturbance, we see it’s often symptomatic of anxiety about changes that are occurring. People lose their more complex ways of thinking and behaving, and their more simple and more concrete ways of thinking emerge.

Common characteristics of fundamentalist thought

People often think about fundamentalism as particular sets of beliefs. They may think these beliefs are rigid and not shared by many. Yet, fundamentalism is simply a way of thinking about things. Islamic fundamentalists, Jewish fundamentalists, Christian fundamentalists, Hindu fundamentalists, Buddhist fundamentalists and even non-religious fundamentalists all have a distinct way of thinking: a black and white and concrete way of understanding issues.

Furthermore, fundamentalism lacks pluralism. Groups of people are divided into those who think our way and those who think differently. Fundamentalists may even feel those outside one’s group are evil. At a very minimum, outsiders are wrong and, for their own sake, should be persuaded to change their perspective. Indeed, for fundamentalists, it’s not just a matter of a difference of opinion. It’s much more contrasted: my beliefs are right and yours are not just wrong, they are dangerous and perhaps even a threat to me.

This doesn’t necessarily mean that every fundamentalist reacts violently, although they may have aggressive thoughts. Simply put, feelings of anxiety can make these people think in less complex ways.

Returning from radicalisation

Suppose it’s the case that the drivers for terrorism, radicalisation and fundamentalism are essentially emotional. In that case, we need to understand and address the powerful feelings driving these phenomena. It’s essential to engage with communities that are extremely angry or frightened. Their leaders need to be addressed and told, ‘You’re clearly very angry or anxious about something. Please help me to understand that.’

For instance, the IRA, the Irish Republican Army, was inspired to conduct a terrorist campaign. John Hume, a political leader, approached these people and asked what they wanted, to which they replied that they wanted a united Ireland. Hume told them to look at a map: Ireland is a single, contiguous island. Of course, the IRA was mostly concerned with the border. Yet, Hume understood the border simply represented people’s disagreement about how to share the island.

In other words, it was not a matter of physically uniting Ireland but resolving the relationships between the people on the island. Members of the IRA argued that the border was maintained by the British. Hume replied, ‘OK, you may well be right. And certainly, historically, you’re right. But let’s talk to the British now and see if they still want to maintain their involvement in things.’ Hume talked to the British government, and they admitted that they wanted a peaceful outcome and were open to talking about a different kind of future. Ultimately, it became possible to talk about these issues after the deeply disturbed feelings of those involved had been acknowledged and honoured.

Engaging with Al Qaeda

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When I talked to some leading figures in Al Qaeda and asked what their main concern was, they responded, ‘Well, we come from the Middle East, and we don’t believe that our countries are being governed fairly. We are not wealthy. We have a lot of oil, but it is not shared with ordinary people.

‘Our rulers are kept in place by their relationships with external factors. The West says it wants democracy and human rights; however, its allies in our region don’t maintain democracy, and they aren’t interested in human rights.

‘Still, they’re never confronted by the West. No matter how we try to have conversations with people in the West about this, they’re not interested in us. They’re only interested in themselves. So, we have to resort to violence. Not because we want to or because we think it’s a good thing, but because we can’t think of any other way to drive these people out of our region to achieve the kind of country we want.

‘It won’t necessarily be the kind of country that you would like us to have. We may not have your kind of government. We may not have your kind of values. But if you think you are justified to live in your way, then you need to accept that it is justified for us to live in our way. At the moment, your undemocratic rulers in our part of the world are preventing that.’

Rising tensions

The difficulty with these kinds of issues is that if you don’t resolve tensions at a relatively early stage before the violence gets bad, it spins out of control. It affects everything, and the whole fabric, not just of local society or regional society, but the fabric of global community begins to fragment and disintegrate.

That’s what we are experiencing at the moment. The problems of Afghanistan have a long history. These issues began as the problems of the Soviet Union and the United States. More specifically, the United States and the West involved the Saudis and others in undermining the situation. When the Soviets left, the situation changed, but the people involved in the fighting discovered that they could accomplish particular objectives with violence, and the problem became worse and worse.

Overall, the whole situation became more complex, more fragmented and more disturbed. As such, we must pull back and say, ‘Well, wait a minute. What is it about these relationships? How can we begin to put them together?’ While that’s a complex and challenging task, it’s not an impossible one.

Discover More About

the psychology of extremism

Alderdice, J. T. (2017). Fundamentalism, Radicalization and Terrorism. Part 1: terrorism as dissolution in a complex system. Psychoanalytic Psychotherapy, 31(3), 285–300.

Alderdice, J. T. (2017). Fundamentalism, Radicalization and Terrorism. Part 2: fundamentalism, regression and repair. Psychoanalytic Psychotherapy, 31(3), 301–313.

The psychological drivers of terrorism, radicalisation and fundamentalism