Terrorists and peacemakers may grow up in the same community and adhere to the same religious tradition. The killing carried out by one and the reconciliation fostered by the other indicate the range of dramatic and contradictory responses to human suffering by religious actors. Yet religion's ability to inspire violence is intimately related to its equally impressive power as a force for peace, especially in the growing number of conflicts around the world that involve religious claims and religiously inspired combatants. This book explains what religious terrorists and religious peacemakers share in common, what causes them to take different paths in fighting injustice, and how a deeper understanding of religious extremism can and must be integrated more effectively into our thinking about tribal, regional, and international conflict.
The events of September 11, 2001 solidified religious extremism’s importance in American political and intellectual discourse. Yet before that tragic day scholars have been engaging in issues of religious extremism and violence. R. Scott Appleby’s The Ambivalence of the Sacred is one prime example. The book’s publication date—pre-9/11—does not detract from its arguments, but instead enhances the growing importance in the days leading up to America’s most devastating terrorist attack. This Notre Dame historian’s clear prose and logic establish an intellectual framework from which readers can begin to differentiate between religious extremisms. Appleby argues that while violence and religious extremism often go hand in hand, this relationship is not necessary. Humanity uses religion as an institutional framework to organize sacred beliefs, but these sacred notions are ambiguous to individuals. Put simply, individuals interpret and internalize sacred notions differently. Hence, there is an ambivalence of the sacred, meaning that those who believe can use religious doctrines and texts to endorse both peaceful and violent extremism. In making a stance on which choice is more productive, Appleby clearly sides with the peaceful option. He then argues that peaceful interventions—driven by religious, sacred belief—can play an important role in mending global ideological and spiritual divides in the twenty-first century. Early in The Ambivalence of the Sacred, Appleby makes clear the distinction between private beliefs and public governance. In our secular age, religious belief has been relegated to the private sphere while politics are continually and unabashedly debated in the public sphere. Appleby maintains that this dichotomy need not be and devotes copious space to recounting religious movements that transcend the political and public spheres with great effect. Individuals chose based on three factors: first, the influence of religious leaders in a given society; second, an individual’s level of religious education; finally, a nation’s political situation. Appleby uses well known examples to enforce his argument (i.e.) and lesser known religious movements to give his points depth (e.g. . Another distinction Appleby proposed is that between “extremists,” who he categorizes as violent groups and individuals, and “militants for peace,” believers in non-violent interaction. These terms are somewhat problematic, however. In a post 9/11 world, both “extremist” and “militant” hold cultural meanings that will be tough to shake. Nevertheless, Appleby’s hope is a positive one. He extols the virtues of believers in peaceful intervention to play a key role in reconciling the differences between religious groups. This argument is well juxtaposed with that of Charles Taylor and A Secular Age. Put simply, Taylor examines the interplay between secularism and religiosity in the modern era. Appleby’s argument is less complicated, but in basic terms his point seems (at least initially) valid: that believers share a similar set of core values with other believers. Instead of secular arguments for a clear split between governance and religion, believers can act as understanding, intermediate actors in regional and global conflicts. Appleby’s book aims to show the positive side of religious intervention in post-Cold War global affairs. His continued endorsement of humanity as being inherently good reveals a secular belief. Yet he does not appropriately engage in a discussion of secular versus religious motives for both violence and peace in a post-superpower world. Religion’s role in challenging atheistic communism and the Soviet Union has been well documented, but during the Cold War the distinctions were much clearer: democracy and religiosity could work hand in hand by standing united against a common threat. Now the rules have changed. America perceives its enemy to be flawed not for an atheism that validates the restriction and violation of human rights; instead they view fundamentalism as a challenge to democracy. This is a different type of religiosity, one that may hold as strong of convictions for its violent adherents as Appleby’s resolve for peaceful intervention. Put simply, Appleby has pointed out that the rules of the game have changed and endorses peaceful religious movements to settle differences. This is a nice sentiment, but the actions of Hamas, Al-Qaida, Iranian fundamentalists, and other notable terrorist groups remain a serious threat. Appleby’s pleas for reconciliation between these groups and their western opponents will probably go unheeded. Appleby provides a clear and precise history of shifting Catholic values, most notably the urging of religious tolerance enacted by Vatican II. In doing so, however, Appleby raises an interesting avenue of thought, one inspired by Charles Taylor. The relatively recent shift towards tolerance by the Vatican lagged behind Secular ideals of individuality and personal freedoms. In other words, secularism and the pressures it exerted in endorsing individuality forced the Vatican’s hand in changing with the times. In making these changes, the Catholic Church has gained multitudes of new adherents. But the groups Appleby wishes to reconcile in the East often identify themselves in opposition to western-style secularism and modern ideals, a tradition of which the Catholic church is now a part. He remains optimistic that religious leaders and groups can enact peaceful change, but when one recognizes the distinct difference in belief structures between Islamic fundamentalism and Western-style democracy, ultimate peaceful outcomes seem less certain. The Ambivalence of the Sacred provides a few important functions for modern readers. First, it endorses that religious belief unto itself is not inherently evil nor oppressive. This point is a welcome addition, and should be reiterated in a world now highly fearful of religious fundamentalism. Also, it argues that reconciliation between divergent groups need not fall into the hands of nationstates or secular governments. Instead, religious groups do have power in enacting change and should embrace that power. Where Appleby falls short is in underestimating the many factors that influence the belief structures of fundamentalists. To be sure, economic unrest is a factor in influencing young “extremists,” and regions at an economic disadvantage may be more prone to violence. Also, there are other structures at play which influence extremism than religion. To be fair, Appleby does show how nationalism can endorse and bolster religious movements (e.g. in the Middle East and Iran), but not how colonialism of the twentieth century has influenced these connections.
This book is fascinating, transforming, and absurdly dense in its wealth of knowledge. Appleby is clearly an intelligent and well-researched man, however he writes in a chunky, circuitous manner that makes it far less accessible than it could be.