How to fight Osama "Has Been" Laden

Making al Qaeda boring and uncool.

The battle against al Qaeda is fought on the basis of ideology, religion and socio-economics. But this obscures an important part of the story. For many angry and disillusioned young men al Qaeda's appeal is that it seems cool, exciting, romantic and adventurous.

In this it shares much in common with other anti-establishment groups and social epidemics of predominantly angry young men. Accepting the ideology depends to great extent on whether a person's friends do and whether they are deemed cool and worthy of imitation. Recognising the 'coolness' factor presents a new angle of attack. Al Qaeda needs to be made boring and, even better, laughable.

Marketing agencies spend billions on making brands cool. But it shouldn't be quite so difficult to contaminate the al Qaeda image.

Adopting a liberal and open attitude to dissent is essential to demystifying the ideology and making it dull and commonplace. Far from preventing radicalisation, suppressing radical voices and texts can actually have a 'taboo effect', making them more exciting and alluring. Instead, radical texts must be translated, read and discussed more widely in local level debates so that people can recognise and dispute their arguments. The majority of terrorists had a simplistic and shallow understanding of Islam and thinkers like Ibn Taymiyya and Sayyid Qutb. They lacked the critical thinking skills to consider historical context, understand subtleties and had little tolerance for ambiguity. Critical thnking is key to countering al Qaeda's ideology and can only be developed through exposure to as many views and ideas as possible, including radical ones.

Words are powerful, and the language used to describe wannabe jihadists should not play into the 'cool' appeal. Describing them as 'holy warriors', 'operatives' or 'sleeper cells' only makes them sound sexy and daring. Media reports and government needs to highlight the shocking ignorance, incompetence and narcissism that characterises the overwhelming majority of jihadi wannabes. Language must also have traction within the community. To describe 'Islam is peace' is unnecessarily emasculating and inaccurate. Islam, like just war theory and the other Abrahamic religions, advocates violence in self-defense but only under very strict rules. 'Islam is just' would have more resonance.

Satire and humour is a powerful weapon: it can strip the al Qaeda brand of its cool appeal. Satire has been outstandingly effective at undermining the British Fascist Party and the Ku Klux Klan in the US. Chris Morris' new film Four Lions about hapless wannabe jihadis in Britain could have a devastating effect. And Morris' film is just a sample of what could be a full on comedic assault. YouTube is already full of laugh-inducing videos that satirise wannabe jihadists and expose their absurd views.

There's also potential for alternatives and opportunities for social activism that can compete with al Qaeda. Non-violent forms of radicalism and activism should be welcomed and encouraged. Young people need to be able to express their opinions and frustrations in a way that makes them feel they are accomplishing something. For example, the opportunity to participate in charity work abroad through a US-style Peace Corps programme, in areas of particular concern, could provide an exciting and rewarding alternative.

Preventing terrorism is as much about marketing as it is ideology. The fight against al Qaeda will only be won when Bin Laden is no longer considered a hero, but a 'has been'.

Jonathan Birdwell is a researcher at Demos and co-author of The Edge of Violence

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times