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The Revolutionists: The Story of the Extremists Who Hijacked the 1970s
SHORTLISTED FOR THE BAILLIE GIFFORD PRIZE • An epic, authoritative, gripping account of the years when a new wave of revolutionaries held the world for ransom
In the 1970s, an unprecedented wave of international terrorism broke out. Ambitious, networked, and far-reaching, new armed groups terrorized the world with intricately planned plane hijackings and hostage missions, leaving governments scrambling to cope. Their motives were as diverse as their methods. Some sought to confront Israel, others to topple Western imperialism or battle capitalism; a few simply sought adventure or power. Among them were the unflappable young Leila Khaled, sporting jewelry made from ammunition; the maverick Carlos the Jackal, with his taste for cigars, fine dining, and designer suits; and the radical leftists of the “Baader-Meinhof Gang” and the Japanese Red Army. Their attacks forged a lawless new battlefield thirty thousand feet in the air, evading the reach of security agencies, policymakers, and spies alike. Their operations rallied activists and networks in places where few had suspected their existence, leaving a trail of chaos from Bangkok to Paris to London to Washington, D.C.
Veteran foreign correspondent Jason Burke provides a thrilling account of this era of spectacular violence. Drawing on decades of research, recently declassified government files, still-secret documents, and original interviews with hijackers, double agents, and victims who continue to grieve their loved ones, The Revolutionists provides an unprecedented account of a period that definitively shaped today’s world and probes the complex relationship between violence, terrorism, and revolution. From the deserts of Jordan to the Munich Olympics to the Iranian Embassy siege in London and the Beirut bombings of the early 1980s, Burke invites us into the lives and minds of the perpetrators of these attacks, as well as the government agents and top officials who sought to foil them. Charting, too, such shattering events as the Iranian Revolution and the Lebanese civil war, he shows how, by the 1980s, a campaign for radical change led by secular, leftist revolutionaries had given way to a far more lethal movement of conservative religious fanaticism that would dominate the decades to come.
Driven by an indelible cast of characters moving at a breakneck pace, full of detail and drama, The Revolutionists is the definitive account of a dark and seismic decade.
In the 1970s, an unprecedented wave of international terrorism broke out. Ambitious, networked, and far-reaching, new armed groups terrorized the world with intricately planned plane hijackings and hostage missions, leaving governments scrambling to cope. Their motives were as diverse as their methods. Some sought to confront Israel, others to topple Western imperialism or battle capitalism; a few simply sought adventure or power. Among them were the unflappable young Leila Khaled, sporting jewelry made from ammunition; the maverick Carlos the Jackal, with his taste for cigars, fine dining, and designer suits; and the radical leftists of the “Baader-Meinhof Gang” and the Japanese Red Army. Their attacks forged a lawless new battlefield thirty thousand feet in the air, evading the reach of security agencies, policymakers, and spies alike. Their operations rallied activists and networks in places where few had suspected their existence, leaving a trail of chaos from Bangkok to Paris to London to Washington, D.C.
Veteran foreign correspondent Jason Burke provides a thrilling account of this era of spectacular violence. Drawing on decades of research, recently declassified government files, still-secret documents, and original interviews with hijackers, double agents, and victims who continue to grieve their loved ones, The Revolutionists provides an unprecedented account of a period that definitively shaped today’s world and probes the complex relationship between violence, terrorism, and revolution. From the deserts of Jordan to the Munich Olympics to the Iranian Embassy siege in London and the Beirut bombings of the early 1980s, Burke invites us into the lives and minds of the perpetrators of these attacks, as well as the government agents and top officials who sought to foil them. Charting, too, such shattering events as the Iranian Revolution and the Lebanese civil war, he shows how, by the 1980s, a campaign for radical change led by secular, leftist revolutionaries had given way to a far more lethal movement of conservative religious fanaticism that would dominate the decades to come.
Driven by an indelible cast of characters moving at a breakneck pace, full of detail and drama, The Revolutionists is the definitive account of a dark and seismic decade.
736 pages, Hardcover
First published October 2, 2025
About the author
Jason Burke
24 books59 followersJason Burke (born 1970) is a British journalist and the author of several non-fiction books. A correspondent covering Africa for The Guardian, he is currently based in Johannesburg, having previously been based in New Delhi as the same paper's South Asia correspondent.
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February 23, 2026
“This is a book about violence, and people who use it in an effort to bring about radical change. Specifically, it deals with the violent expression of political and religious extremism between the late 1960s and the early 1980s that we have come to call terrorism. The pages that follow describe attacks in two dozen countries, on four continents, committed by a hundred or so citizens of around thirty different nations. They include young women and old men, literature students and high-school dropouts, penniless refugees and scions of wealthy families, sociopaths and idealists, social care assistants and hardened assassins, puritans and hedonists, idealists and cynics, sadists and aspirant saints…Some took other people’s lives as they sought to bring about revolution. Some were killed themselves. Those who tried to counter their activities used violence too, sometimes with forensic precision, sometimes with deliberate lack of discrimination. This book describes the lives, ideas, acts, and occasional deaths of those involved in this extraordinary and important conflict, which did so much to shape the world we live in today…”
- Jason Burke, The Revolutionists: The Story of the Extremists Who Hijacked the 1970s
Changing the world is hard. It is a big place, after all, and the power structures that run it are well entrenched. This difficulty leads to frustration. Frustration often leads to violence. While this has been true throughout history, Jason Burke’s The Revolutionists focuses its attention on the long decade of the 1970s.
There are good reasons for this emphasis. For one, the postwar fall of empires and the success of anticolonial movements showed that nothing was forever. Meanwhile, the ongoing Cold War made possible unusual alliances and support. The spread of globalization created stark winners and losers, and meant the forced exportation of culture to places that were not necessarily receptive. In addition, technology created new targets, such as airplanes, and new ways to spread the news.
The Revolutionists is a lengthy yet fast-paced account of the chief players in this radical, deadly era. By the time we reach the final pages, everything was different, though nothing had really changed.
***
No decade fits neatly within a ten-year period. Thus, even though the subtitle refers to the 1970s, the coverage of this 607-page volume actually starts in the 1960s, and ends well into the 1980s.
There is a lot to cover here, and Burke does so in narrative fashion. The Revolutionists is personality-based storytelling. Context is built-in around the margins, but center stage belongs to the individuals carrying out various attacks. These include the glamorous Leila Khaled, who helped with two airline hijackings; Wadie Haddad, who founded the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine; Andreas Baader, a West German communist who led the Baader-Meinhof Gang; and Ilich Ramirez Sanchez, a Venezuelan Marxist who nevertheless adored the spoils of capitalism, and went by the nickname “Carlos the Jackal.”
These are just a few of the many characters featured in The Revolutionist. With each person he introduces, Burke ably describes their unique pathway into demonstrative lawbreaking. Among these men and women, there are truly committed individuals, as well as young adults manifesting typical rebellion in extreme fashion. On the one hand you have Leila Khaled, who was born in Mandate Palestine, fled her homeland in 1948, and acted upon tactile grievances. On the other hand you have Gudrun Ensslin, who had an unexceptional childhood as the daughter of an Protestant pastor, and learned at distance about social injustice. She then channeled meritorious criticism of unrestrained capitalism through an off-putting combination of obscurantist language, arson, and kidnapping.
There has been, of course, an ongoing debate about the definition of “terrorism” and “terrorist,” with many asserting that it is a matter of perspective. Burke does not really entertain this argument, but simply maintains a level of objectivity by adhering to the general rule that the killing of innocent human beings – whether by state or nonstate actors – cannot be condoned by any sane ethical paradigm.
***
The Revolutionists reads like a thriller. Burke excels at set-pieces, and the book has many. His scope was a little narrower than I expected, given this book’s size. Mostly we are following pro-Palestinian organizations, with substantial sections devoted to the German Red Army Faction and the Iranian Revolution. Missing is a wider look at groups such as the Basque separatists, the Irish Republican Army, or the Symbionese Liberation Army in the United States, all of which were active during this period.
The result is that Burke sometimes feels like he’s playing the hits. For example, there are long accounts of the 1972 Munich Olympics, as well as the Israeli revenge operation that followed. There are also two whole chapters on the hijacking of Air France Flight 139, which ended up in Entebbe, Uganda. Make no mistake: these are well done sequences. Both, however, have been well-covered by countless books, movies, and documentaries.
With that said, Burke shines a light on areas that might be less familiar, at least to Westerners. There is, for instance, a good discussion on the Abadan theater fire in Iran, an event that precipitated the Shah’s final fall. There is also the siege of the Great Mosque in Mecca, which helped to radicalize one of the sons of billionaire construction magnate Mohammed bin Awad bin Ladin.
***
This is not a scholarly work, though it does have a theme. Specifically, Burke traces the transition from leftwing agitation to conservative religious lethality.
To be sure, the incidents documented in The Revolutionists were always extremely dangerous. There is no “safe” way to hijack a commercial jetliner. Nevertheless, in the early days – when terrorism was dominated by fanatical idealists – a high body count was not the point. When Leila Khaled helped hijack TWA Flight 840, the plane landed, the passengers disembarked, and explosives were set off in an empty Boeing 707. It was high-stakes theater meant to catch your attention, not sicken your stomach.
By the time we reach the end of The Revolutionists, the impetus had mutated into something far darker. Theological imperatives replaced economic critiques; suicide became a tactic; and mass casualties were the goal. The day of the “celebrity terrorist” ended, and the Age of Terror was just up ahead. The undoubtedly-ruthless-but-also-kinda-quixotic Carlos the Jackal gave way to the absolutely merciless, dead-eyed Mohammed Atta.
***
Terrorism often alters the trajectory of history. It has destabilized regimes, removed important figures from the gameboard, and started long-lasting wars.
This is not the same thing as affecting the systemic change that putatively drives terrorists in the first place.
Over time, shocking outbursts of mayhem have been mostly ineffective. Murder gets a lot of attention, but tends to repel moderates, making it hard to create a mass social movement. The sheer bloody spectacle also muddies the message, meaning that genuine complaints get overshadowed by horror. Finally, violence begets violence, and no violence compares to that unleashed by the state.
- Jason Burke, The Revolutionists: The Story of the Extremists Who Hijacked the 1970s
Changing the world is hard. It is a big place, after all, and the power structures that run it are well entrenched. This difficulty leads to frustration. Frustration often leads to violence. While this has been true throughout history, Jason Burke’s The Revolutionists focuses its attention on the long decade of the 1970s.
There are good reasons for this emphasis. For one, the postwar fall of empires and the success of anticolonial movements showed that nothing was forever. Meanwhile, the ongoing Cold War made possible unusual alliances and support. The spread of globalization created stark winners and losers, and meant the forced exportation of culture to places that were not necessarily receptive. In addition, technology created new targets, such as airplanes, and new ways to spread the news.
The Revolutionists is a lengthy yet fast-paced account of the chief players in this radical, deadly era. By the time we reach the final pages, everything was different, though nothing had really changed.
***
No decade fits neatly within a ten-year period. Thus, even though the subtitle refers to the 1970s, the coverage of this 607-page volume actually starts in the 1960s, and ends well into the 1980s.
There is a lot to cover here, and Burke does so in narrative fashion. The Revolutionists is personality-based storytelling. Context is built-in around the margins, but center stage belongs to the individuals carrying out various attacks. These include the glamorous Leila Khaled, who helped with two airline hijackings; Wadie Haddad, who founded the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine; Andreas Baader, a West German communist who led the Baader-Meinhof Gang; and Ilich Ramirez Sanchez, a Venezuelan Marxist who nevertheless adored the spoils of capitalism, and went by the nickname “Carlos the Jackal.”
These are just a few of the many characters featured in The Revolutionist. With each person he introduces, Burke ably describes their unique pathway into demonstrative lawbreaking. Among these men and women, there are truly committed individuals, as well as young adults manifesting typical rebellion in extreme fashion. On the one hand you have Leila Khaled, who was born in Mandate Palestine, fled her homeland in 1948, and acted upon tactile grievances. On the other hand you have Gudrun Ensslin, who had an unexceptional childhood as the daughter of an Protestant pastor, and learned at distance about social injustice. She then channeled meritorious criticism of unrestrained capitalism through an off-putting combination of obscurantist language, arson, and kidnapping.
There has been, of course, an ongoing debate about the definition of “terrorism” and “terrorist,” with many asserting that it is a matter of perspective. Burke does not really entertain this argument, but simply maintains a level of objectivity by adhering to the general rule that the killing of innocent human beings – whether by state or nonstate actors – cannot be condoned by any sane ethical paradigm.
***
The Revolutionists reads like a thriller. Burke excels at set-pieces, and the book has many. His scope was a little narrower than I expected, given this book’s size. Mostly we are following pro-Palestinian organizations, with substantial sections devoted to the German Red Army Faction and the Iranian Revolution. Missing is a wider look at groups such as the Basque separatists, the Irish Republican Army, or the Symbionese Liberation Army in the United States, all of which were active during this period.
The result is that Burke sometimes feels like he’s playing the hits. For example, there are long accounts of the 1972 Munich Olympics, as well as the Israeli revenge operation that followed. There are also two whole chapters on the hijacking of Air France Flight 139, which ended up in Entebbe, Uganda. Make no mistake: these are well done sequences. Both, however, have been well-covered by countless books, movies, and documentaries.
With that said, Burke shines a light on areas that might be less familiar, at least to Westerners. There is, for instance, a good discussion on the Abadan theater fire in Iran, an event that precipitated the Shah’s final fall. There is also the siege of the Great Mosque in Mecca, which helped to radicalize one of the sons of billionaire construction magnate Mohammed bin Awad bin Ladin.
***
This is not a scholarly work, though it does have a theme. Specifically, Burke traces the transition from leftwing agitation to conservative religious lethality.
To be sure, the incidents documented in The Revolutionists were always extremely dangerous. There is no “safe” way to hijack a commercial jetliner. Nevertheless, in the early days – when terrorism was dominated by fanatical idealists – a high body count was not the point. When Leila Khaled helped hijack TWA Flight 840, the plane landed, the passengers disembarked, and explosives were set off in an empty Boeing 707. It was high-stakes theater meant to catch your attention, not sicken your stomach.
By the time we reach the end of The Revolutionists, the impetus had mutated into something far darker. Theological imperatives replaced economic critiques; suicide became a tactic; and mass casualties were the goal. The day of the “celebrity terrorist” ended, and the Age of Terror was just up ahead. The undoubtedly-ruthless-but-also-kinda-quixotic Carlos the Jackal gave way to the absolutely merciless, dead-eyed Mohammed Atta.
***
Terrorism often alters the trajectory of history. It has destabilized regimes, removed important figures from the gameboard, and started long-lasting wars.
This is not the same thing as affecting the systemic change that putatively drives terrorists in the first place.
Over time, shocking outbursts of mayhem have been mostly ineffective. Murder gets a lot of attention, but tends to repel moderates, making it hard to create a mass social movement. The sheer bloody spectacle also muddies the message, meaning that genuine complaints get overshadowed by horror. Finally, violence begets violence, and no violence compares to that unleashed by the state.
January 28, 2026
This is an informative book written by a journalist, not a historian, so it's full of panache in its storytelling but it's not analytical and, at times, it feels like the material rather gets away from the author. It's also not just about the 1970s as advertised in the title and tends not to define its terms: so 'revolutionists' is a baggy concept that stretches from the 1960s Marxist-Leninist groups who really did want a revolution in the West, to the Iranian Revolution led by the Ayatollah Khomeini who ushered in a theocratic regime that hated the West, the Soviets and any other believers of Islam who didn't share the Ayatollah's repressive and authoritarian views; to Osama bin Laden in the 1980s and the formation of Al-Qaeda which wasn't so much about revolution as the establishment of a fundamentalist Islamic world through violence.
The thread that makes this book hang together is not really 'revolutionists' or the 1970s but a history of the Middle East, especially of Palestine and the project to establish a Palestinian state. Other activists during this period like the IRA or the ANC are not part of this book.
Even within the remit that the author has set himself, the book falls into two halves. The first traces the spate of sky-jackings of the period and the rescues as well as 'big' events such as the Munich Olympics massacre and Entebbe. The struggle between Israel and Middle Eastern states threads through this half as even western 'revolutionary' groups like Baader-Meinhof support Palestine and frequently train at PLO camps. The writing is frequently tense and exciting, almost like a non-fiction thriller.
The second half of the book moves more closely into the late twentieth century history of the Middle East: Iran, Iraq, the protracted civil war in Lebanon all take front-row space though the material doesn't follow wholly logically on from either the professed theme of the book or the first half. In some ways the world does change with a disillusion with Marxist theory and a backlash against 'revolutionary' violence - not least because while some of the earlier sky-jackings were careful to release hostages and ensure planes were empty before being blown up, there was a change is strategy that led to huge numbers of civilian deaths. Interspersed with the story of events are deep-dives into the main protagonists: sometimes these people are hard to keep clear, especially given the vast number of Arabic, Palestinian, Islamic groupings that emerge, merge, fall apart and fall out. Nevertheless, it's interesting to follow the careers of prominent people like Yasser Arafat, to get an insight into the early lives of the Ayatollah and Bin Laden, as well as glimpses of people like Saddam Hussein, the Assad dynasty and Benjamin Netanyahu back in the 1970s and 1980s.
So, while this book was quite different from what I had expected, I found it an informative read that fills in some the the events that I knew by name but had no idea what they meant: I never knew what had happened at Entebbe, for instance. The chapters on the civil war in Lebanon were also enlightening and Burke navigates through the complexities of Arab factions in a way that made them comprehensible - at least at the time of reading!
Despite some straining to tie back events, strategies and agendas to this stated idea of revolutionists and to also avoid pejorative terms like 'terrorist', this book may wander quite far from its stated aims but I found it filled in lots of historical knowledge for me about the Middle East that helps make sense of where we are today. I'll repeat that this is not analytical and not written by a historian or academic: but as a long-time Guardian journalist reporting from the Middle East, this is an on-the-ground look at a complex and complicated situation.
The text in my edition is just under 700 pages and the rest is notes, sources, photos and a massive 300 page index.
The thread that makes this book hang together is not really 'revolutionists' or the 1970s but a history of the Middle East, especially of Palestine and the project to establish a Palestinian state. Other activists during this period like the IRA or the ANC are not part of this book.
Even within the remit that the author has set himself, the book falls into two halves. The first traces the spate of sky-jackings of the period and the rescues as well as 'big' events such as the Munich Olympics massacre and Entebbe. The struggle between Israel and Middle Eastern states threads through this half as even western 'revolutionary' groups like Baader-Meinhof support Palestine and frequently train at PLO camps. The writing is frequently tense and exciting, almost like a non-fiction thriller.
The second half of the book moves more closely into the late twentieth century history of the Middle East: Iran, Iraq, the protracted civil war in Lebanon all take front-row space though the material doesn't follow wholly logically on from either the professed theme of the book or the first half. In some ways the world does change with a disillusion with Marxist theory and a backlash against 'revolutionary' violence - not least because while some of the earlier sky-jackings were careful to release hostages and ensure planes were empty before being blown up, there was a change is strategy that led to huge numbers of civilian deaths. Interspersed with the story of events are deep-dives into the main protagonists: sometimes these people are hard to keep clear, especially given the vast number of Arabic, Palestinian, Islamic groupings that emerge, merge, fall apart and fall out. Nevertheless, it's interesting to follow the careers of prominent people like Yasser Arafat, to get an insight into the early lives of the Ayatollah and Bin Laden, as well as glimpses of people like Saddam Hussein, the Assad dynasty and Benjamin Netanyahu back in the 1970s and 1980s.
So, while this book was quite different from what I had expected, I found it an informative read that fills in some the the events that I knew by name but had no idea what they meant: I never knew what had happened at Entebbe, for instance. The chapters on the civil war in Lebanon were also enlightening and Burke navigates through the complexities of Arab factions in a way that made them comprehensible - at least at the time of reading!
Despite some straining to tie back events, strategies and agendas to this stated idea of revolutionists and to also avoid pejorative terms like 'terrorist', this book may wander quite far from its stated aims but I found it filled in lots of historical knowledge for me about the Middle East that helps make sense of where we are today. I'll repeat that this is not analytical and not written by a historian or academic: but as a long-time Guardian journalist reporting from the Middle East, this is an on-the-ground look at a complex and complicated situation.
The text in my edition is just under 700 pages and the rest is notes, sources, photos and a massive 300 page index.
October 24, 2025
Mostly focuses on the far leftist and Palestinian terrorists in the 1970s and early 1980s (e.g. hijacking planes, the Munich Olympics massacre but also wars between Israel and Palestine like Black September). It appears that a lot of far leftists focused on terrorism and joined the Palestine cause to bring about a Marxist revolution - a strange marriage to me.
I'm fascinated at how many of them were German 'anti-Nazis' (the Baader-Meinhof group, Wilfried Böse and so on) who out of all the possible causes in the world - and there are many of them - chose the anti-Israel cause. Something I see all the time even long before this new Israel-Gaza war - an obsession amongst the left with the Palestinian cause when saying nothing about so many other causes e.g. what China is doing to Uyghur Muslims. What makes me laugh even more - which this book does talk some about - is how the cause they are doing this for is often very socially conservative and religious while they themselves are liberal types with women frequently involved and all the rest of that. But somehow that incongruence misses these revolutionaries. It's why I think that there's a deep, deep and horrible strain of antisemitism driving this very specific obsession.
And the type of people? Psychopathic adventurers - 'Carlos the Jackal' who is extensively covered in the book is an example of that, contracting out his terrorism to the highest bidder to live the high life - and if not, stupid enough to think that some bombs and killings of civilians will somehow get the general population to sympathise with their cause, uprise and bring about a revolution. I think that Burke gives them far too much respect. He admires Gudrun Ensslin's effectiveness and 'intellect' for example but fails to quote their own words much. I looked up some of Ensslin's words, instantly recoiled and realised why: the opposite of sophisticated and intellectual thought e.g. "Violence is the only response to violence". (Yes, sometimes, but several times there are better solutions that avoids a never-ending cycle of constant violence against each other.)
It's not mentioned that Ensslin had given birth to a son just two or three months before meeting her partner Baader when many other abandoned children of these revolutionaries are mentioned in passing. Burke could have written more about the human cost of the activities of these revolutionaries - Ensslin's son Felix has written about the hurt and anger he has experienced because of this. To me Ensslin comes across as a sort of Ghislaine Maxwell or Myra Hindley type: abjectly amoral, crude and serves as an effective assistant to a horrible male partner she is enamoured of. I've only used her as one example of how awful a lot of these people are if you properly look at them as people. It would take too long to talk about all of them.
Later on in the book there are chapters about how far leftist revolutionaries failed in Iran and, therefore, the shift to radical and conservative Islam as instead the cleric Khomeini took over in 1979 after the Shah fell. That Islamism drives most terrorism we've been experiencing in recent decades, of course. And there's a chapter on Osama bin Laden's early history.
I'm a bit surprised that Burke quotes Ryszard Kapuściński who has been exposed as a fraud - I thought that kind of thing gets you cancelled by journalists. But of course, Kapuściński writes compellingly and beautifully, which Burke does not. Which leads to that this was a big downside of this book for me - I found it dry and boring; serviceably written. If you have an especial interest in the subject - which I don't have - you may find it gripping though.
I'm fascinated at how many of them were German 'anti-Nazis' (the Baader-Meinhof group, Wilfried Böse and so on) who out of all the possible causes in the world - and there are many of them - chose the anti-Israel cause. Something I see all the time even long before this new Israel-Gaza war - an obsession amongst the left with the Palestinian cause when saying nothing about so many other causes e.g. what China is doing to Uyghur Muslims. What makes me laugh even more - which this book does talk some about - is how the cause they are doing this for is often very socially conservative and religious while they themselves are liberal types with women frequently involved and all the rest of that. But somehow that incongruence misses these revolutionaries. It's why I think that there's a deep, deep and horrible strain of antisemitism driving this very specific obsession.
And the type of people? Psychopathic adventurers - 'Carlos the Jackal' who is extensively covered in the book is an example of that, contracting out his terrorism to the highest bidder to live the high life - and if not, stupid enough to think that some bombs and killings of civilians will somehow get the general population to sympathise with their cause, uprise and bring about a revolution. I think that Burke gives them far too much respect. He admires Gudrun Ensslin's effectiveness and 'intellect' for example but fails to quote their own words much. I looked up some of Ensslin's words, instantly recoiled and realised why: the opposite of sophisticated and intellectual thought e.g. "Violence is the only response to violence". (Yes, sometimes, but several times there are better solutions that avoids a never-ending cycle of constant violence against each other.)
It's not mentioned that Ensslin had given birth to a son just two or three months before meeting her partner Baader when many other abandoned children of these revolutionaries are mentioned in passing. Burke could have written more about the human cost of the activities of these revolutionaries - Ensslin's son Felix has written about the hurt and anger he has experienced because of this. To me Ensslin comes across as a sort of Ghislaine Maxwell or Myra Hindley type: abjectly amoral, crude and serves as an effective assistant to a horrible male partner she is enamoured of. I've only used her as one example of how awful a lot of these people are if you properly look at them as people. It would take too long to talk about all of them.
Later on in the book there are chapters about how far leftist revolutionaries failed in Iran and, therefore, the shift to radical and conservative Islam as instead the cleric Khomeini took over in 1979 after the Shah fell. That Islamism drives most terrorism we've been experiencing in recent decades, of course. And there's a chapter on Osama bin Laden's early history.
I'm a bit surprised that Burke quotes Ryszard Kapuściński who has been exposed as a fraud - I thought that kind of thing gets you cancelled by journalists. But of course, Kapuściński writes compellingly and beautifully, which Burke does not. Which leads to that this was a big downside of this book for me - I found it dry and boring; serviceably written. If you have an especial interest in the subject - which I don't have - you may find it gripping though.
December 18, 2025
Detailed and deep study of the evolution of international terrorism. Not a book i could read quickly but very rewarding.
January 13, 2026
Jason Burke’s “The Revolutionists” arrives at an odd moment to feel old-fashioned: a serious work of history, uninterested in hot takes, allergic to the consolations of personality-driven narrative, and skeptical of the romance that so often clings to revolutionary myth. If the book has a polemical impulse, it is expressed through restraint. Burke does not ask us to be thrilled by political violence, nor to be reassured by the state’s eventual capacity to contain it. He asks instead for attention of a different sort: the patient kind that follows cause into consequence, tactic into countermeasure, rhetoric into ruin.
The story Burke tells is, of course, thrilling in the way reality can be when it is extreme: kidnappings, hijackings, prison hunger strikes, spectacular assaults calibrated for maximum public disruption. Yet “The Revolutionists” is not a catalogue of outrages. It is a study of how modern insurgent violence behaved once it entered the bloodstream of industrial democracies and their media systems, and what those systems did in response. Burke’s real subject is not the explosion but the echo: how shock reverberates through institutions, how states metabolize crisis, how movements mistake visibility for leverage, how ideology hardens into ritual.
Burke begins where he must: with grievance that is more than abstraction. The early sections insist that revolutionary violence does not emerge from theory alone. It is born from displacement, humiliation, and the slow education of the body into suspicion. Burke is attentive to the way people become symbols before they ever choose to be. A border, a police stop, an interrogation room, an exile’s precarious housing can function as curriculum. The book’s tone here is precise rather than sentimental. Burke refuses to turn suffering into an alibi; he also refuses to treat it as irrelevant scenery. The effect is to establish a moral baseline without granting the narrative a moral shortcut.
From that foundation, the book narrows into the mechanics of spectacle. Burke’s most bracing pages treat political violence not as pathology but as strategy: an attempt to communicate under conditions in which ordinary speech has been rendered powerless. The decision to abduct rather than assassinate, to hijack rather than bomb, to issue communiqués with a particular style and vocabulary is presented as tactical reasoning within a specific media environment. Burke is particularly sharp on the way spectacle is built. Targets are chosen not only for symbolic value but for their capacity to force attention, to create a dilemma, to produce a set of images that will travel. Violence becomes a message, and the message is designed for broadcast.
Here the book’s contemporary resonance announces itself without needing to declare “relevance.” Burke does not have to mention social media or algorithmic amplification for the reader to recognize the pattern. The attention economy did not begin with smartphones. “The Revolutionists” makes the case that, long before the feed, militants understood the primacy of the image, the bite, the scene. They relied on the machinery of publicity to complete the act. The television camera did not merely record the drama; it helped produce it.
Yet Burke’s most important insight is that attention is not the same thing as power – or at least not durable power. The book’s core drama is the gap between spectacular visibility and lasting leverage. Again and again, Burke shows how tactical “success” generates consequences no one fully controls: diplomatic fracture, opportunistic imitation, state overreaction, internal paranoia, escalating demands for proof of seriousness. In a sense, “The Revolutionists” is a book about feedback loops. The act produces the response, and the response becomes part of the act’s meaning, and the meaning becomes the movement’s fuel. No one remains free of the circuit, least of all the militants who believed they were forcing history to move.
A mid-book sequence on West Germany distills this logic with unnerving clarity. The abduction of the conservative candidate Peter Lorenz by the June 2 Movement is treated not as mere set piece but as a democratic stress test. Burke lays out the confusion of the initial response, the political calculations, the unprecedented nature of releasing domestic extremists in exchange for a captive. The state yields – reluctantly, gingerly, with the insistence that it is not establishing a precedent – while simultaneously understanding that it is. Burke then shows the price of that concession as the pattern proliferates. What is negotiated once becomes imaginable again, and imagination is a form of permission.
The subsequent assault on the West German embassy in Stockholm, carried out by militants styling themselves as a “commando,” becomes the brutal counterpoint: a dramatic escalation, a standoff, killings, and a premature detonation that engulfs the building in fire. Burke is attentive not only to the event but to the interpretations that spring up around it: the militants who claim death itself as a kind of victory, the imprisoned leaders who read the violence as proof of continuing legitimacy, the diplomats who draw the bleak conclusion that a small, committed group can “play havoc” with highly developed societies. Burke’s power as a historian is in his ability to let these voices coexist without turning the book into a courtroom. He shows how each actor sees the same episode and extracts a different lesson, then demonstrates what the system actually learns.
It is in this temperament that Burke distinguishes himself from the more breathless chroniclers of political radicalism. Bryan Burrough’s “Days of Rage” is exhilarating in its momentum, a true-crime epic of American unrest. Burke’s book is closer in moral temperature to Hannah Arendt’s “On Violence” and Albert Camus’s “The Rebel,” works that treat revolutionary rhetoric as a serious philosophical claim and then follow it to the place where seriousness curdles. Burke is not writing philosophy, but he shares their refusal to be seduced by rhetoric that confuses destruction with liberation. There is also something of Alistair Horne’s unsentimental rigor in “A Savage War of Peace”: the sense that ideology is never pure once it meets the machinery of the state, and that violence has a peculiar talent for becoming its own justification.
If “The Revolutionists” has a single guiding thesis, it is that modern political violence is inseparable from modern representation. Burke’s attention to propaganda, communiqués, and the aesthetic habits of militants – the way iconography is borrowed, slogans are refined, martyrs are pictured, enemies are dehumanized into a category – reads like a prehistory of today’s ideological content streams. Here the book is both chilling and oddly explanatory: language that once aimed to persuade begins to function as incantation, a closed circuit designed to confirm believers rather than win converts. The audience that matters becomes internal, and the movement begins to perform itself into existence.
Burke is careful not to reduce his subjects to cynics. Many are sincere. That sincerity, the book suggests, is part of the danger. “The Revolutionists” returns to a hard truth: sincerity does not scale. Conviction cannot substitute for organization, and intensity cannot substitute for legitimacy. The movements Burke follows repeatedly misread their own moral urgency as evidence of historical necessity. They mistake their willingness to sacrifice for proof that they embody the people. Burke’s narrative is a long demonstration of what happens when that illusion collides with reality.
One of Burke’s most persuasive arguments concerns the state’s advantage: not simply its capacity for force, but its capacity for patience. Institutions, he suggests, do not need to be morally inspired. They need only to endure. They learn slowly, but they do learn. Each spectacular assault produces procedural adaptations that outlast the militants’ fervor: new security architectures, new investigative practices, new laws that begin as emergency measures and end as normalized infrastructure. The book refuses to celebrate this. Burke is alert to the costs. The state’s endurance often comes with a hardening that lingers, and “The Revolutionists” is honest about the way crisis can become governance’s preferred mode.
That honesty is also why the book’s emotional register may strike some readers as austere. Burke is not a writer of lyrical intimacy, and “The Revolutionists” does not regularly pause to dwell on victims. Suffering is present, acknowledged, consequential – but rarely rendered in a way that offers catharsis. Burke’s chosen temperature is procedural: he is drawn to courtrooms, ministerial offices, prison wings, and the language in which states translate violence into cases. Some readers will want more grief, more human proximity, more moral emphasis on the irreducible wrongness of what is done to bodies. Burke’s restraint feels like an ethical choice: to refuse sentimentalization, to refuse the pornography of horror, to refuse the narrative pleasures that violence too easily supplies.
And yet in the book’s prison sequences, Burke allows the human cost to emerge with a devastating specificity. Ulrike Meinhof’s deterioration is traced not as melodrama but as an anatomy of isolation: the severed contact with her children, the self-criticism that turns her intelligence against itself, the spectacle of a public figure becoming, in the eyes of observers, less terrifying than pitiable. The hunger strikes, too, become a kind of grim ritual. Burke shows how protest can become theater, how theater can become leverage, and how leverage can slide into martyrdom. The death of Holger Meins is presented as both personal tragedy and political accelerant: an emaciated body transformed into a poster, a funeral turned into a mass pledge, a movement discovering that death can recruit.
The book’s most quietly theatrical scene is the meeting between Jean-Paul Sartre and Andreas Baader in Stammheim. Burke renders it with a novelist’s sense of awkwardness and drift: Sartre arriving as moral celebrity, invited in part because his name might function as a shield; Baader greeting him with a silence and a line that is almost farcical in its self-importance; the philosopher struggling to follow the younger man’s ideological jargon; the gaps in conversation widening into a kind of mutual incomprehension. It is one of the book’s finest moments because it stages, without sermonizing, the tragic comedy of revolutionary self-mythology. The philosopher comes to bestow legitimacy and finds, instead, that legitimacy is not what the militant wants. What he wants is not moral argument but recognition.
In these later chapters, “The Revolutionists” also converses with wider histories of Cold War geopolitics – the wide-angle analysis associated with Odd Arne Westad’s “The Cold War,” or, in a different register, Vincent Bevins’s “The Jakarta Method.” Burke is not attempting a comprehensive global history, but he is constantly aware of the ecosystem in which these movements operate: proxy conflicts, ideological trafficking, the temptation for states to sponsor disruption abroad while demanding stability at home, the way local grievances are magnetized by global struggle. The book shows how transnational solidarity can be both real and strangely hollow: an alliance of tactics more than an alliance of achievable politics.
What finally gives “The Revolutionists” its moral force is its insistence that history does not grant meaning on demand. The militants Burke chronicles often believe that urgency can force the future open. They believe that spectacular action obligates the world to respond, that intensity compels legitimacy, that being willing to die proves the justice of the cause. Burke’s story is the record of what happens when those beliefs collide with the banal endurance of modern systems. The future does not open. The world continues. Violence becomes archive: files, trials, security protocols, legends that shrink and harden as they are remembered. Revolutionary violence, Burke suggests, rarely ends in either triumph or repentance. It ends in administration.
There are many reasons to admire “The Revolutionists”: its breadth, its sobriety, its refusal of cliché, its ability to make a familiar era newly legible. Burke has written a book that will be cited more than it is loved, taught more than it is devoured – and that is not a criticism. It is the mark of a serious work, one that trusts the reader to endure complexity without the sugar of sentiment. My rating is 89 out of 100: a recognition of its intellectual power and its chosen severity, and of the way its cold clarity illuminates not only a past era of revolutionary violence, but the contemporary temptation to mistake attention for authority and spectacle for change.
The story Burke tells is, of course, thrilling in the way reality can be when it is extreme: kidnappings, hijackings, prison hunger strikes, spectacular assaults calibrated for maximum public disruption. Yet “The Revolutionists” is not a catalogue of outrages. It is a study of how modern insurgent violence behaved once it entered the bloodstream of industrial democracies and their media systems, and what those systems did in response. Burke’s real subject is not the explosion but the echo: how shock reverberates through institutions, how states metabolize crisis, how movements mistake visibility for leverage, how ideology hardens into ritual.
Burke begins where he must: with grievance that is more than abstraction. The early sections insist that revolutionary violence does not emerge from theory alone. It is born from displacement, humiliation, and the slow education of the body into suspicion. Burke is attentive to the way people become symbols before they ever choose to be. A border, a police stop, an interrogation room, an exile’s precarious housing can function as curriculum. The book’s tone here is precise rather than sentimental. Burke refuses to turn suffering into an alibi; he also refuses to treat it as irrelevant scenery. The effect is to establish a moral baseline without granting the narrative a moral shortcut.
From that foundation, the book narrows into the mechanics of spectacle. Burke’s most bracing pages treat political violence not as pathology but as strategy: an attempt to communicate under conditions in which ordinary speech has been rendered powerless. The decision to abduct rather than assassinate, to hijack rather than bomb, to issue communiqués with a particular style and vocabulary is presented as tactical reasoning within a specific media environment. Burke is particularly sharp on the way spectacle is built. Targets are chosen not only for symbolic value but for their capacity to force attention, to create a dilemma, to produce a set of images that will travel. Violence becomes a message, and the message is designed for broadcast.
Here the book’s contemporary resonance announces itself without needing to declare “relevance.” Burke does not have to mention social media or algorithmic amplification for the reader to recognize the pattern. The attention economy did not begin with smartphones. “The Revolutionists” makes the case that, long before the feed, militants understood the primacy of the image, the bite, the scene. They relied on the machinery of publicity to complete the act. The television camera did not merely record the drama; it helped produce it.
Yet Burke’s most important insight is that attention is not the same thing as power – or at least not durable power. The book’s core drama is the gap between spectacular visibility and lasting leverage. Again and again, Burke shows how tactical “success” generates consequences no one fully controls: diplomatic fracture, opportunistic imitation, state overreaction, internal paranoia, escalating demands for proof of seriousness. In a sense, “The Revolutionists” is a book about feedback loops. The act produces the response, and the response becomes part of the act’s meaning, and the meaning becomes the movement’s fuel. No one remains free of the circuit, least of all the militants who believed they were forcing history to move.
A mid-book sequence on West Germany distills this logic with unnerving clarity. The abduction of the conservative candidate Peter Lorenz by the June 2 Movement is treated not as mere set piece but as a democratic stress test. Burke lays out the confusion of the initial response, the political calculations, the unprecedented nature of releasing domestic extremists in exchange for a captive. The state yields – reluctantly, gingerly, with the insistence that it is not establishing a precedent – while simultaneously understanding that it is. Burke then shows the price of that concession as the pattern proliferates. What is negotiated once becomes imaginable again, and imagination is a form of permission.
The subsequent assault on the West German embassy in Stockholm, carried out by militants styling themselves as a “commando,” becomes the brutal counterpoint: a dramatic escalation, a standoff, killings, and a premature detonation that engulfs the building in fire. Burke is attentive not only to the event but to the interpretations that spring up around it: the militants who claim death itself as a kind of victory, the imprisoned leaders who read the violence as proof of continuing legitimacy, the diplomats who draw the bleak conclusion that a small, committed group can “play havoc” with highly developed societies. Burke’s power as a historian is in his ability to let these voices coexist without turning the book into a courtroom. He shows how each actor sees the same episode and extracts a different lesson, then demonstrates what the system actually learns.
It is in this temperament that Burke distinguishes himself from the more breathless chroniclers of political radicalism. Bryan Burrough’s “Days of Rage” is exhilarating in its momentum, a true-crime epic of American unrest. Burke’s book is closer in moral temperature to Hannah Arendt’s “On Violence” and Albert Camus’s “The Rebel,” works that treat revolutionary rhetoric as a serious philosophical claim and then follow it to the place where seriousness curdles. Burke is not writing philosophy, but he shares their refusal to be seduced by rhetoric that confuses destruction with liberation. There is also something of Alistair Horne’s unsentimental rigor in “A Savage War of Peace”: the sense that ideology is never pure once it meets the machinery of the state, and that violence has a peculiar talent for becoming its own justification.
If “The Revolutionists” has a single guiding thesis, it is that modern political violence is inseparable from modern representation. Burke’s attention to propaganda, communiqués, and the aesthetic habits of militants – the way iconography is borrowed, slogans are refined, martyrs are pictured, enemies are dehumanized into a category – reads like a prehistory of today’s ideological content streams. Here the book is both chilling and oddly explanatory: language that once aimed to persuade begins to function as incantation, a closed circuit designed to confirm believers rather than win converts. The audience that matters becomes internal, and the movement begins to perform itself into existence.
Burke is careful not to reduce his subjects to cynics. Many are sincere. That sincerity, the book suggests, is part of the danger. “The Revolutionists” returns to a hard truth: sincerity does not scale. Conviction cannot substitute for organization, and intensity cannot substitute for legitimacy. The movements Burke follows repeatedly misread their own moral urgency as evidence of historical necessity. They mistake their willingness to sacrifice for proof that they embody the people. Burke’s narrative is a long demonstration of what happens when that illusion collides with reality.
One of Burke’s most persuasive arguments concerns the state’s advantage: not simply its capacity for force, but its capacity for patience. Institutions, he suggests, do not need to be morally inspired. They need only to endure. They learn slowly, but they do learn. Each spectacular assault produces procedural adaptations that outlast the militants’ fervor: new security architectures, new investigative practices, new laws that begin as emergency measures and end as normalized infrastructure. The book refuses to celebrate this. Burke is alert to the costs. The state’s endurance often comes with a hardening that lingers, and “The Revolutionists” is honest about the way crisis can become governance’s preferred mode.
That honesty is also why the book’s emotional register may strike some readers as austere. Burke is not a writer of lyrical intimacy, and “The Revolutionists” does not regularly pause to dwell on victims. Suffering is present, acknowledged, consequential – but rarely rendered in a way that offers catharsis. Burke’s chosen temperature is procedural: he is drawn to courtrooms, ministerial offices, prison wings, and the language in which states translate violence into cases. Some readers will want more grief, more human proximity, more moral emphasis on the irreducible wrongness of what is done to bodies. Burke’s restraint feels like an ethical choice: to refuse sentimentalization, to refuse the pornography of horror, to refuse the narrative pleasures that violence too easily supplies.
And yet in the book’s prison sequences, Burke allows the human cost to emerge with a devastating specificity. Ulrike Meinhof’s deterioration is traced not as melodrama but as an anatomy of isolation: the severed contact with her children, the self-criticism that turns her intelligence against itself, the spectacle of a public figure becoming, in the eyes of observers, less terrifying than pitiable. The hunger strikes, too, become a kind of grim ritual. Burke shows how protest can become theater, how theater can become leverage, and how leverage can slide into martyrdom. The death of Holger Meins is presented as both personal tragedy and political accelerant: an emaciated body transformed into a poster, a funeral turned into a mass pledge, a movement discovering that death can recruit.
The book’s most quietly theatrical scene is the meeting between Jean-Paul Sartre and Andreas Baader in Stammheim. Burke renders it with a novelist’s sense of awkwardness and drift: Sartre arriving as moral celebrity, invited in part because his name might function as a shield; Baader greeting him with a silence and a line that is almost farcical in its self-importance; the philosopher struggling to follow the younger man’s ideological jargon; the gaps in conversation widening into a kind of mutual incomprehension. It is one of the book’s finest moments because it stages, without sermonizing, the tragic comedy of revolutionary self-mythology. The philosopher comes to bestow legitimacy and finds, instead, that legitimacy is not what the militant wants. What he wants is not moral argument but recognition.
In these later chapters, “The Revolutionists” also converses with wider histories of Cold War geopolitics – the wide-angle analysis associated with Odd Arne Westad’s “The Cold War,” or, in a different register, Vincent Bevins’s “The Jakarta Method.” Burke is not attempting a comprehensive global history, but he is constantly aware of the ecosystem in which these movements operate: proxy conflicts, ideological trafficking, the temptation for states to sponsor disruption abroad while demanding stability at home, the way local grievances are magnetized by global struggle. The book shows how transnational solidarity can be both real and strangely hollow: an alliance of tactics more than an alliance of achievable politics.
What finally gives “The Revolutionists” its moral force is its insistence that history does not grant meaning on demand. The militants Burke chronicles often believe that urgency can force the future open. They believe that spectacular action obligates the world to respond, that intensity compels legitimacy, that being willing to die proves the justice of the cause. Burke’s story is the record of what happens when those beliefs collide with the banal endurance of modern systems. The future does not open. The world continues. Violence becomes archive: files, trials, security protocols, legends that shrink and harden as they are remembered. Revolutionary violence, Burke suggests, rarely ends in either triumph or repentance. It ends in administration.
There are many reasons to admire “The Revolutionists”: its breadth, its sobriety, its refusal of cliché, its ability to make a familiar era newly legible. Burke has written a book that will be cited more than it is loved, taught more than it is devoured – and that is not a criticism. It is the mark of a serious work, one that trusts the reader to endure complexity without the sugar of sentiment. My rating is 89 out of 100: a recognition of its intellectual power and its chosen severity, and of the way its cold clarity illuminates not only a past era of revolutionary violence, but the contemporary temptation to mistake attention for authority and spectacle for change.
January 22, 2026
This book has been reviewed everywhere from here to Timbuktu, but here are my two cents:
The Revolutionists is less a history of 1970s extremism than an examination of how Middle Eastern conflicts became the crucible for modern terrorism. If you're expecting deep dives into ETA, the Red Brigades, the Aldo Moro case, or Irish Republicanism, you'll be disappointed. Burke's expertise and interest lie elsewhere—closer in fact to my own.
The book is an authoritative, meticulously researched chronicle of '70s violence, from secular leftist spectacle to religious fanaticism. The cast of characters and events are infamous: Carlos the Jackal, Leila Khaled with her grenade-ring jewelry, the Baader-Meinhof Gang, Munich, the Iranian Revolution, Lebanon's descent into civil war, Sabra and Shatila, the rise of Wahhabism, and ultimately bin Laden's emergence from the Soviet-Afghan war.
The collation of all these chapters of history in a single tome has a powerful effect. Burke draws on sources in a dozen languages, declassified files, and original interviews, and shows not just the mechanics of terrorism, but its grotesque seductions. What on earth possessed intellectuals like Sartre to visit Meinhof in prison? Why did Foucault endorse Khomeini? The romantic pull of revolutionary violence, dressed in keffiyehs and berets, remains one of the era's most dangerous illusions.
I was most struck by what Burke allows to come to the surface without editorial moralizing: the Nazi parentage of so many Red Army Faction members, Carlos the Jackal's chilling early declaration that he was "in Lebanon learning how to kill Jews," the obsessive antisemitism threading through these movements. The conspiracy theories about global Zionist control pour off the pages. Burke doesn't depict these revolutionaries as tragic heroes; rather, he shows them for the deluded, often functionally illiterate, Jew-hating zealots they were.
Like Patrick Radden Keefe in Say Nothing, Burke achieves a deeply atmospheric reconstruction of a turbulent era told with unbiased clarity. He treats his subjects as complex human beings rather than caricatured monsters; but he never flinches from documenting the callousness of their violence. His prose is sober and scholarly. It is serious history that trusts readers to navigate moral complexity without sentiment.
The book's central argument is very compelling: the failure of secular leftist revolutionaries created a vacuum filled by something far more lethal—religious fanaticism. Burke shows how terrorism evolved from publicity-seeking hijackings (where passengers received cigarettes and sweets) to suicide bombings designed to maximize carnage. It's a transformation that also defines our current moment.
Burke writes with journalistic rigor rather than novelistic flair. Some might find the book a little dense. But for anyone trying to understand how we arrived at our present crisis of extremism, The Revolutionists offers cold clarity where romance once obscured reality.
Five stars for the sheer scope and rigor of this excellent work.
The Revolutionists is less a history of 1970s extremism than an examination of how Middle Eastern conflicts became the crucible for modern terrorism. If you're expecting deep dives into ETA, the Red Brigades, the Aldo Moro case, or Irish Republicanism, you'll be disappointed. Burke's expertise and interest lie elsewhere—closer in fact to my own.
The book is an authoritative, meticulously researched chronicle of '70s violence, from secular leftist spectacle to religious fanaticism. The cast of characters and events are infamous: Carlos the Jackal, Leila Khaled with her grenade-ring jewelry, the Baader-Meinhof Gang, Munich, the Iranian Revolution, Lebanon's descent into civil war, Sabra and Shatila, the rise of Wahhabism, and ultimately bin Laden's emergence from the Soviet-Afghan war.
The collation of all these chapters of history in a single tome has a powerful effect. Burke draws on sources in a dozen languages, declassified files, and original interviews, and shows not just the mechanics of terrorism, but its grotesque seductions. What on earth possessed intellectuals like Sartre to visit Meinhof in prison? Why did Foucault endorse Khomeini? The romantic pull of revolutionary violence, dressed in keffiyehs and berets, remains one of the era's most dangerous illusions.
I was most struck by what Burke allows to come to the surface without editorial moralizing: the Nazi parentage of so many Red Army Faction members, Carlos the Jackal's chilling early declaration that he was "in Lebanon learning how to kill Jews," the obsessive antisemitism threading through these movements. The conspiracy theories about global Zionist control pour off the pages. Burke doesn't depict these revolutionaries as tragic heroes; rather, he shows them for the deluded, often functionally illiterate, Jew-hating zealots they were.
Like Patrick Radden Keefe in Say Nothing, Burke achieves a deeply atmospheric reconstruction of a turbulent era told with unbiased clarity. He treats his subjects as complex human beings rather than caricatured monsters; but he never flinches from documenting the callousness of their violence. His prose is sober and scholarly. It is serious history that trusts readers to navigate moral complexity without sentiment.
The book's central argument is very compelling: the failure of secular leftist revolutionaries created a vacuum filled by something far more lethal—religious fanaticism. Burke shows how terrorism evolved from publicity-seeking hijackings (where passengers received cigarettes and sweets) to suicide bombings designed to maximize carnage. It's a transformation that also defines our current moment.
Burke writes with journalistic rigor rather than novelistic flair. Some might find the book a little dense. But for anyone trying to understand how we arrived at our present crisis of extremism, The Revolutionists offers cold clarity where romance once obscured reality.
Five stars for the sheer scope and rigor of this excellent work.
July 24, 2025
The Revolutionists by Jason Burke untangles the spectacularly tangled web that is International terrorism and how it spun wildly in the 1970's. Deeply researched, it's a very accessible read. Burke does a solid job of connecting the dots among the varied terrorist factions. His writing is erudite but not arch. It lays clear too the path that Osama bin Laden took. He also does this without demonizing Islam. This is a compelling read. Thanks to #Netgalley and #Knopf for the opportunity to preview this book.
November 3, 2026
New left true crime. Serviceable detail on the operations themselves if you can stomach the lack of sympathy w the Palestinian cause: post 48 Israeli terrorism ignored. It's a real shame foco theory v v v v rarely works
March 26, 2026
This is a great book. It is a tremendous primer on the rise and fall of organized left-wing terrorism in the 1970s and 1980s. It is impeccably written and is a riveting read. I REALLY wish I could give it five stars, but it has a few issues.
1) The sourcing suggests that this is much more of a synthesis than it is a groundbreaking piece of research. Not necessarily a bad thing, but the reader would benefit from reading some of the numerous works cited in his bibliography. There is some original research in the form of interviews (Burke is a journalist) but it is overwhelmed by secondary sources.
2) I agree with his argument about how leftist/secular nationalism in the Middle East gave way to Islamism, but Burke spends too much time here. His entire second half of the book becomes a history of the effects of the Iranian Revolution and almost completely eschews conversations about the end of the Cold War and its effect on European radical politics. Burke is a Middle East reporter by trade and its clear that's where his ultimate interests lay.
3) He begins to editorialize a bit towards the end of the book particularly when dealing with Lebanon, the PLO, and Israel c.1978-83. His sourcing on several events discussed also suggests a bit of bias.
Needless to say, this is absolutely a book worth reading for those who want to dive into such an interesting time in 20th century history.
1) The sourcing suggests that this is much more of a synthesis than it is a groundbreaking piece of research. Not necessarily a bad thing, but the reader would benefit from reading some of the numerous works cited in his bibliography. There is some original research in the form of interviews (Burke is a journalist) but it is overwhelmed by secondary sources.
2) I agree with his argument about how leftist/secular nationalism in the Middle East gave way to Islamism, but Burke spends too much time here. His entire second half of the book becomes a history of the effects of the Iranian Revolution and almost completely eschews conversations about the end of the Cold War and its effect on European radical politics. Burke is a Middle East reporter by trade and its clear that's where his ultimate interests lay.
3) He begins to editorialize a bit towards the end of the book particularly when dealing with Lebanon, the PLO, and Israel c.1978-83. His sourcing on several events discussed also suggests a bit of bias.
Needless to say, this is absolutely a book worth reading for those who want to dive into such an interesting time in 20th century history.
December 31, 2025
As people and governments around the globe are shaken by internal violence in their countries, it has remained the responsibility of these nations to define and deescalate these tensions. Neglecting both, politicians will instead label these hostilities with the ineffective and careless term they have been taught. Terrorism. A shadowy evil separate from place and time—an evil that must not be contextualized but crushed. The definition of terrorist does not come from science but from political motivations. It is difficult to witness cruel acts of terror, but to analyze the motivations behind these tragedies is necessary if a government truly means to confront this violence. Often it is much easier to point to this non-state violence as the work of monsters who must be hunted. An endless spectacle and narrative of terror removed from context only guarantees that this violence and its de-escalation remain separate.
The Revolutionists does not attempt to close this distance. Its extensive overview of various radical individuals and organizations does provide a historic yet glitzy account of the 1970s and its various extremists. It argues that there is a link between the radical violence of that era, and much of the radical violence being experienced in the present. With a lack of analysis on state-sanctioned violence in both of these eras, this narrative adds to the belief that terrorism appears without warning and can infect any individual at any time. The horrific loss of life chronicled in this book can not be justified, nor can it be simplified as mindless hatred. The concern that still exists half a century later is this—the definition of terrorism continues to expand. Civilians executed by state officials such as ICE are justified as a culling of terrorist ideology. Even peaceful opposition to state-sanctioned violence is considered a seedbed for the sin of disobeyed authority. As long as there is a commitment to present terrorism as a catch-all term for those who critique power, it should be no surprise that anyone who speaks on the suffering of their fellow citizens will be considered a threat to order and common sense.
The Revolutionists does not attempt to close this distance. Its extensive overview of various radical individuals and organizations does provide a historic yet glitzy account of the 1970s and its various extremists. It argues that there is a link between the radical violence of that era, and much of the radical violence being experienced in the present. With a lack of analysis on state-sanctioned violence in both of these eras, this narrative adds to the belief that terrorism appears without warning and can infect any individual at any time. The horrific loss of life chronicled in this book can not be justified, nor can it be simplified as mindless hatred. The concern that still exists half a century later is this—the definition of terrorism continues to expand. Civilians executed by state officials such as ICE are justified as a culling of terrorist ideology. Even peaceful opposition to state-sanctioned violence is considered a seedbed for the sin of disobeyed authority. As long as there is a commitment to present terrorism as a catch-all term for those who critique power, it should be no surprise that anyone who speaks on the suffering of their fellow citizens will be considered a threat to order and common sense.
December 30, 2025
This was an interesting read. I felt the author’s contempt for many of the people he writes about really came through — I’m not sure whether that was intentional. The topic is very broad, and at times the links drawn between far-left terrorism, the Iranian Revolution, Osama bin Laden, and the mujahideen felt a bit weak.
The left-wing groups of the 1970s are covered very well, but the later sections dealing with Iraq, Iran, and Afghanistan feel comparatively thin. The ending also comes across as quite abrupt. Overall, it felt like this could have been expanded into three separate books, given the author’s depth of knowledge and research on each subject.
The left-wing groups of the 1970s are covered very well, but the later sections dealing with Iraq, Iran, and Afghanistan feel comparatively thin. The ending also comes across as quite abrupt. Overall, it felt like this could have been expanded into three separate books, given the author’s depth of knowledge and research on each subject.
September 12, 2026
The slogans and revolutionary invocations of the radical New Left were still widely spoken and popular, but the reality was that the acts they had inspired in the developed world had been neither cathartic nor effective, as Guevara and Marighella had promised, but sordid, bloody and mainly counter-productive.
Here I was absorbing the main themes of CARLOS (2010, dir. Assayas) and they just … tweeted it out.…
I mostly enjoyed this a great deal, because deranged '70s terrorism is a real sweet spot for me in terms of narrative nonfiction. How can you not love stories that involve anecdotes like, "A group of British International Socialists smuggled alcohol into one camp, got drunk, held an impromptu sing-song and then got into a fight, first with a group of British Maoists then with the guards who tried to confiscate their remaining bottles"?
The weaknesses are (a) it has no theoretical spine and no real argument to speak of, and instead mostly serves as a chronological list of Stuff that Happened (b) the attempt to graft on the "black" half of the "red and the black" is clunky. Burke is, of course, right about the shift he's describing. Ultra-leftist pan-global terrorists like the PFLP, RAF, Carlos etc. went out of fashion mostly because their base was always in the Arab world and the Palestinian cause, and because in that environment they were by the 1980s easily outpaced by fundamentalist Islamists like Khomeini, the Qutbists of Egypt, and ultimately Azzam and bin Laden.
But he's thin on why this tendency began to draw more support than leftism. He points occasionally at the fact that the leftists were, at best, indifferent to Muslim faith, but that was always true, and yet secular nationalism was very popular in the '60s and early '70s. Was it just weariness — the Marxists had their turn, and now the grassroots wanted a different approach? Was this more stochastic than I'm making it seem, and an artifact of who happened to gain the upper hand in the Iranian Revolution? If Khomenei had had a stroke in 1978 and MEK had led the revolution instead, would we be situating PFLP and Carlos as Johns the Baptist to the Marxist Shi'a revolution's ultimate triumph? Not much one way or another on these questions.
The ending is particularly strange, as it's just a "where are they now" of various characters. I get what he's going for, but it's odd for a book that started with Leila Khaled's youth to end with "Osama bin Laden got shot in the head by Navy SEALs, in case you hadn't heard."
November 7, 2026
Finally finished this addition to The Year of the Big Books ™️!
Thoroughly enjoyed and a great recounting of an underreported period of history. 80% of this was superb and felt like genuinely important (and really well written) scholarly work. 20% was good but covered in more detail and better elsewhere. Excellent overall!
Thoroughly enjoyed and a great recounting of an underreported period of history. 80% of this was superb and felt like genuinely important (and really well written) scholarly work. 20% was good but covered in more detail and better elsewhere. Excellent overall!
November 5, 2025
كتاب تأريخي مكتوب باسلوب صحفي مشوق يغطي فترة السبعينات وما بعدها.
July 14, 2026
Less of a history of world revolution in the 70s, with more of a focus on the groups who ultimately shaped the modern Middle East including the transition from left wing actors to Islamic ones and how their ideas of revolution evolved
Honestly written closer to a spy thriller than a history book and all the better for it!
Honestly written closer to a spy thriller than a history book and all the better for it!
August 27, 2026
Extremely derivative and a missed opportunity. The Red Brigades are only mentioned in passing and much time is wasted talking about the youth of future Al Qaeda leaders, which Lawrence Wright already covered decades ago. Not worthy of the hype and could have been a much more interesting book if it focused on its actual subject matter.
January 28, 2026
Masterful. Comprehensive, vivid, and meticulous. A must read for any historian of mid-20th century Europe. Full of unbelievable anecdotes, sharp insight, and riveting writing. A lot of productive myth busting, such as arguing the Entebbe Operation was not particularly central to dissuading hijackings, but rather was part of a broader move after the Munich Olympics massacre of 1972 across the West to develop comprehensive emergency counter-terrorism capabilities; demonstrating how “Carlos the Jackal” was in many respects a media creation, entirely unreflective of his overwhelming incompetence and “bourgeois” habits (spending his organization’s funds on expensive suits, Cartier watches, expensive prostitutes and 5-star hotels). I appreciate Sydney Lumet’s Network even more - if this is even possible - after reading this.
April 6, 2026
while making some original points, most of this is far too simplistic in its explanations. Also, it is based on the Middle East, and sees most things through a Middle Eastern slant. It is not a book about far left urban guerillas as a phenomenon, but only about some of them. So there is nothing on the Red Brigades, but a lot about Carlos, nothing about 17 November in Greece, but a great deal about RAF in Germany. Finally, it is mainly about how their enemies (especially police forces) viewed the protagonists, and not about how their sympathisers saw them. It will mainly be appreciated by rightists, zionists and just about centrists
Read
April 7, 2026I found this to be an utterly sordid read. Even granting that Burke is probably not a man of the left (and, as Meaney rightly notes, deemphasizes state violence—or that of incipient states, as with the founding of Israel), it’s hard not to come way even more disillusioned about the era’s left-wing “terrorism” than before. Above all, one gets a sense of how quickly many groups more or less became pawns in the game played by states and their secret services.
bin
December 9, 2025I make a point of not leaving star numbers for any book I haven’t finished.
The trouble with buying kindle books is that you don’t always appreciate how stupidly long they’re going to be. At 768 pages, this book is twice the work I wanted to put in. So here’s the thing about the cost of books: the cover price (about £17) is only part of the story. There’s also the cost of time to read. I’m half way through at this point and my Kindle app tells me I’ve still got more than 24 hours to go.
That would be fine if I was swept away by a compelling narrative, but reading through these chapters just feels more like work. It’s not an easy thing to give up on a book that costs money to buy, but at this point I’d gladly pay the cover price to get 24 hours of my life back.
Thing is, I’m genuinely interested in communist revolutionary history (see my ‘reds’ shelf), perspectives on Islamism (see my ‘mauve’ shelf) and twentieth century history (see my ‘twenty’ shelf). If this book isn’t for me, who is it for?
As to the subject matter, this is a good book if you want to become an expert in the lives and times of the various subhuman psychopaths which make up the subject matter.
The book does a comprehensive job of demonstrating how Palestinian activists have been busy shitting in the well of the civilised world for the last fifty years. It also documents the unholy alliance between radical leftists and Wahhabist killers, in which the Marxists gravitate to their supposed allies for strategic gain, and the Islamists take their cash while holding their beliefs and behaviours in contempt.
This is a book that laboriously demonstrates the danger of a little learning being a bad thing. Midwit activists, believing they’re destined to lead the masses into Communist utopia, waving copies of books for which they’ve barely made it through the introduction.
It’s a story of psychopaths, incompetents, callous and sadistic killers, idealists, fantasists and narcissists. If you like your activists with a healthy dose of misogyny thrown in, there’s more than enough to go round.
Effectively, by page 360, I’ve had enough. This is a collection of people I’d gladly seal in concrete, and I really can’t be bothered to spend any more energy on their stories.
The trouble with buying kindle books is that you don’t always appreciate how stupidly long they’re going to be. At 768 pages, this book is twice the work I wanted to put in. So here’s the thing about the cost of books: the cover price (about £17) is only part of the story. There’s also the cost of time to read. I’m half way through at this point and my Kindle app tells me I’ve still got more than 24 hours to go.
That would be fine if I was swept away by a compelling narrative, but reading through these chapters just feels more like work. It’s not an easy thing to give up on a book that costs money to buy, but at this point I’d gladly pay the cover price to get 24 hours of my life back.
Thing is, I’m genuinely interested in communist revolutionary history (see my ‘reds’ shelf), perspectives on Islamism (see my ‘mauve’ shelf) and twentieth century history (see my ‘twenty’ shelf). If this book isn’t for me, who is it for?
As to the subject matter, this is a good book if you want to become an expert in the lives and times of the various subhuman psychopaths which make up the subject matter.
The book does a comprehensive job of demonstrating how Palestinian activists have been busy shitting in the well of the civilised world for the last fifty years. It also documents the unholy alliance between radical leftists and Wahhabist killers, in which the Marxists gravitate to their supposed allies for strategic gain, and the Islamists take their cash while holding their beliefs and behaviours in contempt.
This is a book that laboriously demonstrates the danger of a little learning being a bad thing. Midwit activists, believing they’re destined to lead the masses into Communist utopia, waving copies of books for which they’ve barely made it through the introduction.
It’s a story of psychopaths, incompetents, callous and sadistic killers, idealists, fantasists and narcissists. If you like your activists with a healthy dose of misogyny thrown in, there’s more than enough to go round.
Effectively, by page 360, I’ve had enough. This is a collection of people I’d gladly seal in concrete, and I really can’t be bothered to spend any more energy on their stories.
November 2, 2026
The Revolutionists: The Story of the Extremists Who Hijacked the 1970s, by Jason Burke
Jason Burke has spent some thirty years reporting on terrorism, covering al-Qaeda, Afghanistan, and the attacks of 9/11. Here he goes back to the foundation of it all, the 1970s, when terrorism took a new turn. His reporting gives the book texture. The cast is vivid: Leila Khaled, who helped hijack planes and wore jewelry made from ammunition; the Baader-Meinhof gang in Germany; the Japanese Red Army; and Carlos the Jackal, a Venezuelan of privileged family, fond of fine dining and designer suits, who ended up a gun for hire.
I found Burke's amalgamation of the decade's events a great approach to understanding terrorism in all its formats. The hijackings are described in unnerving detail, hostages sitting for days on a blistering tarmac under threat of being blown up. One early chapter covers the murder of the Israeli athletes at the 1972 Munich Olympics. For me that began an arc running from Soviet Russia to Tehran, and on to the Israel-Hamas events of today.
The book traces a shift from revolutionaries who wanted to change people's lives through political upheaval to a devotion centered in Islam, particularly militant Islam. One reviewer reads Burke as saying that the self-indulgence and self-destruction of the secular revolutionaries helped bring forth the theocratic extremists who came after. Burke's book left me wary of the stated aims of militant groups, who so often say one thing and do another.
Jason Burke has spent some thirty years reporting on terrorism, covering al-Qaeda, Afghanistan, and the attacks of 9/11. Here he goes back to the foundation of it all, the 1970s, when terrorism took a new turn. His reporting gives the book texture. The cast is vivid: Leila Khaled, who helped hijack planes and wore jewelry made from ammunition; the Baader-Meinhof gang in Germany; the Japanese Red Army; and Carlos the Jackal, a Venezuelan of privileged family, fond of fine dining and designer suits, who ended up a gun for hire.
I found Burke's amalgamation of the decade's events a great approach to understanding terrorism in all its formats. The hijackings are described in unnerving detail, hostages sitting for days on a blistering tarmac under threat of being blown up. One early chapter covers the murder of the Israeli athletes at the 1972 Munich Olympics. For me that began an arc running from Soviet Russia to Tehran, and on to the Israel-Hamas events of today.
The book traces a shift from revolutionaries who wanted to change people's lives through political upheaval to a devotion centered in Islam, particularly militant Islam. One reviewer reads Burke as saying that the self-indulgence and self-destruction of the secular revolutionaries helped bring forth the theocratic extremists who came after. Burke's book left me wary of the stated aims of militant groups, who so often say one thing and do another.
March 3, 2026
I remember reading about many of these events when they happened, and I took a class on terrorism in college in the early Eighties. Reading "The Revolutionists" took me back to those days, but with a better perspective and more detail.
Burke is a good writer, and in this book, he shows how there was a shift over the course of the Seventies away from "leftist" revolutionary motives for violent acts toward a more religious-driven kind of violence. (The coverage of links between terrorism and the Communist governments of the era was interestingly handled.)
There were some events Burke didn't cover that I would have liked to have seen covered, and I think he might have spent too much time on the Iranian Revolution, but overall this was a very good book and one that dealt with a number of emotional issues in a sober way.
Burke is a good writer, and in this book, he shows how there was a shift over the course of the Seventies away from "leftist" revolutionary motives for violent acts toward a more religious-driven kind of violence. (The coverage of links between terrorism and the Communist governments of the era was interestingly handled.)
There were some events Burke didn't cover that I would have liked to have seen covered, and I think he might have spent too much time on the Iranian Revolution, but overall this was a very good book and one that dealt with a number of emotional issues in a sober way.
October 22, 2026
Being in my early teens in the 70’s, I remember the various hijackings which took place at that time. Names like Layla Khalid and the notorious Carlos were often in the news. Now, quite a lot older, I wanted to revisit that violent era and get a broader overview of events. Although, the events in this book start in the 70’s, it goes on to the Iranian Revolution, the Israeli invasion of Lebanon, Al Qaida etc. In doing so, it misses out the Italian Red Brigades, ETA, IRA and US groups like Black Panthers, SLA and others which I was interested in learning about.
Overall seems well researched but loses depth due to its broad scope.
Overall seems well researched but loses depth due to its broad scope.
December 17, 2025
Writing a book review can be a little like doing a staff performance review, when even if the individual has performed very strongly, you nevertheless devote 90% of the time to highlighting how they could do better and areas for development.
So, with this book, which is strong in many areas and which is an informative and entertaining read but which is skewed in so many obvious ways that these are impossible to ignore.
The first and most obvious is that, despite its considerable length, it does not come close to being a comprehensive account of the terrorists of the 1970’s, as its subtitle might suggest it represents. Many of the most active organisations or movements are merely mentioned in passing but largely ignored – the IRA, ETA, the Red Brigades – and others such as the Italian fascists and neo-Nazis (who killed dozens of people) are ignored altogether.
Instead, the book focuses on Palestinian resistance groups, in particular and disproportionality, the PFLP, the German far left (Red Army Faction), and, later, the rise of Islamic militants and Bin Laden. In addition, a very large part of the book is devoted to Ilich Ramírez Sánchez or Carlos the Jackel. This may be understandable, as he was not only the most colourful individual engaged in terrorist violence at this time but also the one who attracted the greatest media coverage, so there are very extensive sources to draw upon but the level of detail Burke provides, down to what he wore and ate on a particular day, is wholly out of proportion to his importance.
Burke’s almost obsessive interest in Carlos the Jackel is all the more strange when set against the cursory references to Sabri al-Banna or Abu Nidal who killed considerably more people than Sánchez. Burke doesn’t even mention the notion, which has existed for many years and for which there is some evidence, that Abu Nidal might have worked for or been controlled by the Israelis, at least at times, although he does note that he killed many senior PLO members, which you might think would at least raise the question. Whether it is true or not, it is surely worth exploring in a work devoted to this subject and time period.
There is also no mention of the fact that Israel provided financial, military and logistical support to the organisation which later became known as Hamas, in order to undermine the PLO and split the Palestinians. Given recent events in Gaza, this is an important point and one which illustrates some of the complexity in analysing these groups.
As I said at the start, the risk here is that I am making ‘The Revolutionists’ sound like a bad book, which it certainly is not. Rather, it is a good book but one in which the text is slanted one way or another, leaving some rather obvious gaps and omissions.
So, with this book, which is strong in many areas and which is an informative and entertaining read but which is skewed in so many obvious ways that these are impossible to ignore.
The first and most obvious is that, despite its considerable length, it does not come close to being a comprehensive account of the terrorists of the 1970’s, as its subtitle might suggest it represents. Many of the most active organisations or movements are merely mentioned in passing but largely ignored – the IRA, ETA, the Red Brigades – and others such as the Italian fascists and neo-Nazis (who killed dozens of people) are ignored altogether.
Instead, the book focuses on Palestinian resistance groups, in particular and disproportionality, the PFLP, the German far left (Red Army Faction), and, later, the rise of Islamic militants and Bin Laden. In addition, a very large part of the book is devoted to Ilich Ramírez Sánchez or Carlos the Jackel. This may be understandable, as he was not only the most colourful individual engaged in terrorist violence at this time but also the one who attracted the greatest media coverage, so there are very extensive sources to draw upon but the level of detail Burke provides, down to what he wore and ate on a particular day, is wholly out of proportion to his importance.
Burke’s almost obsessive interest in Carlos the Jackel is all the more strange when set against the cursory references to Sabri al-Banna or Abu Nidal who killed considerably more people than Sánchez. Burke doesn’t even mention the notion, which has existed for many years and for which there is some evidence, that Abu Nidal might have worked for or been controlled by the Israelis, at least at times, although he does note that he killed many senior PLO members, which you might think would at least raise the question. Whether it is true or not, it is surely worth exploring in a work devoted to this subject and time period.
There is also no mention of the fact that Israel provided financial, military and logistical support to the organisation which later became known as Hamas, in order to undermine the PLO and split the Palestinians. Given recent events in Gaza, this is an important point and one which illustrates some of the complexity in analysing these groups.
As I said at the start, the risk here is that I am making ‘The Revolutionists’ sound like a bad book, which it certainly is not. Rather, it is a good book but one in which the text is slanted one way or another, leaving some rather obvious gaps and omissions.
May 30, 2026
The Revolutionists is a dense history of terrorism during the 1970s. Burke weaves the narrative of the PLO, Black September, Carlos the Jackal, and the rise of the Ayatollah and how it shaped the current state of the Middle East and our modern world. Burke gives an unbiased look into these extremists, giving the reader a glimpse into their motivations. In the end, I was surprised by how the events of the 70s impacted the next five decades.
October 24, 2026
Grim reading, but fascinating, had to switch to audible halfway through as I would never have finished it. Will be buying the hardback edition as a birthday present for someone, which may have been a better option for myself in the first place.
December 14, 2025
Excellent book concentrating on the development of terrorism throughout the seventies - from leftist revolutionaries who want to change to world, to nihiilistic martyrs. Burke's research reveals countless details unknown to this me and creates a convincing narrative arc.
From this reader's point of view, I'd have liked to learn more about ETA and Brigate Rosse, but I appreciate that Burke's expertise is mainly in the Middle East.
From this reader's point of view, I'd have liked to learn more about ETA and Brigate Rosse, but I appreciate that Burke's expertise is mainly in the Middle East.
May 8, 2026
My colleague at AUC, Saad Eddin Ibrahim was in this—also my neighborhood in Cairo, and a lot about Jordan, where I lived. It was well researched and well told. It enjoyed the writing style. Highly recommend.
July 25, 2026
Very interesting.
July 13, 2026
Reads like a novel . Encyclopedic gave me flashbacks to news reports from my youth . Worth reading to explain a period of violence and protest in Europe and the middle east .
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