"Before 2013, no one talked much about “radicalization” in Tunisia. They talked about fucking off to Syria to find a job, to build a polity for Islam, to fight Bashar al-Assad, to join a militant group, to rescue a dying child, to ensure a place in heaven, or some combination of all those things. Those choices and motivations were taken at face value; no one imagined that the young people going to Syria didn’t actually feel these things, that there was instead some fuzzy ideological process called radicalization happening to all of them."
Every year, it seems like there is a late December non-fiction read for me that suddenly competes for best book of the year, and this year it is Moaveni's spectacular examination of the women of ISIS. This is not, given the subject matter, a very hard book to read. And the reason I feel that this is such an important book is precisely the same reason that some people have taken objection to its existence. If you want to preserve a view of the world that says bad things happen because some people revel in causing suffering, you will find this book confronting. But if we want to stop our world plunging further into violence and destruction, this is exactly the kind of detailed, reflective and complex analysis that might help.
Moaveni writes about thirteen women, whose stories vary dramatically. While each has individual differences in motivation, the motivations vary most dramatically between nationalities - the European women view ISIS as a just Caliphate, with little understanding of the religious or political differentiations in the region; the Tunisian women, disillusioned by the post-Arab Spring realities confront ISIS as one of a spectrum of economic, social, religious and political choices; and the Syrian women of Raqqa confront an occupying force. Within wartorn Raqqa, there is conflict within these groups, as the Syrians rail against the naivety and the privilege of the foreigners, especially Europeans, and what they view as a relatively low level of Qur'anic scholarship.
Moaveni has a rich history of reporting from the region, especially Tunisia, and she takes time to explain the context that each of the women is making choices within. Her own background, as the American born child of Iranians, deeply informs her understanding of the realities of British Muslim youth., which is backed by extensive research. The book explores a myriad of dynamics from which themes clearly emerge, but even these are filtered through individual circumstances. In discussing these themes, I want to note that it may imply a simpler analysis that Moaveni presents in the book.
One of the clearest themes is the shrinking 'grey zone' for Muslims in the West, the space in which a peaceful dissent to Imperialism is possible, in which expression of belief can go unharassed and be part of normal civic engagement. There is an undeniable political element to this, as Moaveni explains: "A leaked report by the Ministry of Defence in 2014 acknowledged that the government would find it more difficult to conduct military interventions in countries where UK citizens or their families originated. It was a rare acknowledgement of how complicated it was becoming for Britain to pursue strategic policies—support for the U.S. War on Terror and Israel’s occupation of Palestinian land, the ongoing troop presence in Afghanistan, lucrative arms sales to Saudi Arabia, and complicity in the Saudi war in Yemen that resulted in thousands of civilian deaths—that British Muslims opposed. The media, this argument held, was structurally essential to British foreign policy: the public needed to believe that Islam was the greatest social and security threat to modern Britain. If Muslims were dehumanized, it was easier to repress and silence their political objections to such policies, easier to justify the human toll of the invasions and campaigns waged globally in the name of fighting extremism."
This situation is often reduced in the West to a discussion about Palestine and Israel, but for those living in Arab countries, the US-Saudi alliance looms as significantly.
This is not just a broad political debate, it creates little space for Muslims living in Europe to feel part of the polity. For idealistic young people, longing to be both cool and part of something bigger, social media and broadcasts offer the way to connect with others that don't require them to deny their religion, and support policies which have decimated their communities. When combined with family isolation, fragmented communities - themselves more likely in Pakistani and Bangladeshi migrant families where the adults were raised in village structures vastly different to the cities they have migrated to - you develop vulnerability for ISIS recruiting.
This shrinking grey zone also exists, to some extent, in the post-Arab Spring Tunisia and Syria that Moaveni describes. Here, economic survival is linked to political and social connections - hijab and niqab become indicators of political as well as religious allegiances, and where political groupings evolve quickly and in unexpected directions. "Do they understand the difference between those who came early?", one of her subjects asks at a point, referring to the waves of mercenaries and violence-fetishists who started to replace the earlier waves of idealists and job seekers once the beheadings started. This, of course, does not deny that violence was an early part of the ISIS story - again, a review risks simplify a book which is well-aware it is looking into the heart of darkness. Moaveni does not shirk from the realities of life in ISIS-controlled Raqqa - the violence, the fear, the cronyism and sexual exploitation. She distances her own voice from the professed reasons of many of her subjects, and reminds the reader that people lie, and more so when they are, as ISIS refugees now are, living under controlled circumstances. She wants readers to understand that violence against Muslims looms large not only for the world's global Muslim population but also for Brown people in other countries. ISIS's violence is horrific, but it is not the only horrific violence in the world. And for those living with less well-condemned violence, the hypocrisy creates tension.
It is not an easy read for leftists, who no doubt cheer on the analysis of imperialism, but for whom the rapidity with which idealism can be turned to sadistic mass murder can sit less comfortably. The failure of the Arab Spring to achieve lasting change sits heavily on the book, mediated only slightly by the bright spots in Tunisia. Moaveni also challenges feminists who cling to gendered theories of war. "Women may certainly experience wars, volatility, and state repression differently than men. But ultimately gender does not define their experience, it simply particularizes it; the women of this book have far more in common with the men around them than they do with women of wholly different countries."
The book is not a comprehensive analysis of the politics of the conflict - the YPG appears only at the end of the book, in the context of refugee camps, for example - rather it is a series of specific stories of specific women, with enough context to understand those stories. But nevertheless, it raises huge questions about our global futures: not so much the socio-political elements here, but our failures of empathy and unwillingness to look at our darkness. Moaveni's anger shows in the conclusion, some of which comes from the decision by most Western powers to strip the citizenship of those who joined ISIS. These nationals are now the problem, largely, of Kurdish populations in northern Syria and Iraq, stuck overseeing refugee camps of war criminals no-one wants to own. Presented as a form of punishment, it instead represents the ultimate refusal to take responsibility by Britain and France. These people, this conflict has nothing to do with "us", is the message sent. We simply wash our hands.