For some time, I’ve wanted to write about Mosul in detail. I’ve never felt I had anything to add but that’s led to a silence on this blog I am not ok with. Let this video, and those it focuses on, be a small glimpse of the destruction Daesh has wrought in Mosul. I found the original video on this facebook page: May the residents of Mosul, and of all regions terrorized by Daesh, finally know peace again.
There is no shortage of conspiracy theories about the roots of Daesh. As I am sure readers have seen for themselves, some think a FOIA document from the Department of Defense proves that the USA wanted ISIS to establish a “caliphate.” This document has been widely shared and written about, but I pick that claim apart here. Still others think the USA deliberately sowed chaos in Iraq, rather than charging in arrogantly and leaving a trail of destruction. Some think the entire war in Syria was instigated by the CIA to overthrow Assad because of pipeline politics (the linked piece has 4.1k shares on fb alone). Asad Abu Khalil recently insinuated that Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi himself is a Mossad plant, as ridiculous as that is. Being the subject of so many of these theories apparently got on the nerves of some inside Daesh, and they decided to try to convince their Muslim brethren (or those who will actually listen to them) that conspiracies are flawed.
“Grand conspiracies consist of so many factors only controllable by Allah (ta’ālā).” This is the central argument of the piece I focus on here, published in the ninth installment of Daesh’s now-defunct Dabiq magazine. Frustrated with what they perceive to be the spread of conspiracy theories among Muslims, this piece set out to push back and convince readers to give up this style of thinking. The group employs its discursive terms for shaping the world, labeling some as sahwat / صحوات and others as murtad / مرتد, meaning an apostate. Much of their presentation of history has a unique lens, to say the least, and other parts slip into pure denial. Take this passage to the right, for example. As has been established from so many angles by now, the USA did indeed support Afghan mujahideen in their fight against the USSR. That isn’t to say the USA created these people out of thin air, but there was certainly material support. Throughout the piece, the author (authors?) continually talk about kuffar /كفار, a common term used among jihadis that refers to infidels. This framing not only shapes the question of who is right and who is wrong, but also the Muslim audience, though the vast majority of Muslims don’t walk around labeling people Kuffar.
While never voiced so explicitly, much of the evidence and anecdotes provided by the author points to a feeling that the agency- and therefore achievements- of the Muslims is undermined by conspiracy theories. A quote below from the piece illustrate this well.
Interestingly, the author also says that many “Islamic” leaders, scholars, etc have fallen into a pattern, “in imitation of the nationalists before them…” The author calls up multiple examples, some recent, others ancient, in which Muslims shouldn’t doubt their power. S/he cites 9/11, discussing it as a jihadi accomplishment that should not be doubted or undermined by conspiracy theories:
Returning to the central point, the author sees all knowledge and control ultimately resting with God. Conspiracies, the author argues, assume that humans have this level of power to influence without others realizing, thus Daesh equates this with shirk. Shirk is a term referring to polytheism, also in the form mushrikeen / مشركين in Arabic. In a more literal use, it would refer to a religion like hinduism that believes in multiple deities, or Yezidis in Iraq.
There is something more to be found in the word shirk. It’s awkwardly close to the word kufr / كفر as in “unbelief” because shirk means that one has denied tawheed/ توحيد, or the oneness of God. As this is a pillar of belief in Sunni Islam, engaging in shirk, assuming this is indeed the case, means one is not fulfilling the basic conditions to be a Muslim. This is where kufr comes in, as takfir/ تكفير is the practice of casting people out of the religion, or labeling them kuffar.
Moreover, as is well known, Daesh has been engaging in takfir on a wide scale based on Muslims not engaging in jihad. Since they’ve set themselves up as the Muslims, any other Muslims who fail to support their jihad are failing to engage in jihad as they’re required to (an extremist interpretation) and therefore can be labeled kuffar. In Daesh’s eyes, that is equivalent to labeling someone the enemy; this salafi-jihadi interpretation of Islam affords no protections to them whatsoever.
Towards the end of the piece, this understanding of shirk is spelled out explicitly, shown to left here. The aggressive and takfiri use of the word shirk / شرك aside, the basic insecurity here is one in which a jihadist writing in Daesh’s name wants credit for what s/he perceives to be the organization’s accomplishments. It fits well with broader sociological analyses that ask why young men (more on this to come from me soon!), whether marginalized or not, seek to join a group like Daesh- or extremist groups more broadly: they feel humiliated and want a modicum of power. This emphasis is given voice in the end of the piece, shown below. That’s what I see here- jihadis who sought power in their radicalization feel like they found it, only to see it undermined by conspiracies in which the kuffar retained the power.
Conspiracy theories thus recreate the exact power imbalance that many joined Daesh to attempt to upend.
nb* a number of my Muslim friends helped me by answering a bunch of my questions about shirk- thanks Gulşah, Sajjad, Akbar, Sid, and others:)
While researching for a workshop presentation at UPenn’s CARCG about Daesh media, I came across an interesting and so far overlooked aspect of life under Daesh in Syria and Iraq. In the photo and article, taken from an issue of the Arabic-language النبأ, an unknown author writes on behalf of Daesh about “نقطة إعلامية” . They lay out the history of the “media point” as this translates to, saying that it first appeared in the rural area outside of Aleppo. In the image, we see several dozen people sitting in what resembles a small theater, watching a large digital screen. On the roof above the screen, is the Arabic title mentioned above and a series of media logos. What are these media points and why would Daesh build them?
First, the point above is apparently one of sixty such media points spread throughout Daesh territory. The group laments the difficulties of mass communication, saying that it was hard to reach all of “the Muslims.” They discuss how CDs became the standard but that at a certain point, these were replaced by smartphones. The problem of reaching people without the hardware to use CDs or smartphones remained; the media point is their attempt to bridge the gap between their digital displays of prowess and ideology and the margins of its “caliphate.”
In the article, which appeared in النبأ number 21, Daesh explains how these media points are part of a larger project to confront the “crusader media” and the media of the “tyrants” or طواغيت (I have written about this discourse here). They see these points as a success, and describe how crowds gather around them to watch when new media releases come out. One example of such an event they list was the execution of Moaz al-Kasasbeh, the Jordanian pilot. The discuss how the points are customized relative to the density of residents, and that they were pleased that many residents had “chosen the path of jihad” after watching videos at the points.
Daesh interviewed a number of different media workers to outline local specificities. For example, Abu Bara al-Furati speaks about his work in Raqqa, describing that there are currently six media points there but that they are not enough to meet the needs of the large city and that more are planned as well as updating the existing ones. They also say that they have deliberately spread points in urban and rural areas, claiming that there are 6 points each in rural areas to the north, west, and east of Raqqa. Several of the points have local names corresponding to the traffic circles where they are located. Interestingly, they talk about how they made a wide variety of languages available, which they list as including Arabic, English, Turkish, Kurdish, Farsi (yes, really), French, and others. This would lead one to deduct that Daesh members on both sides of its foreign/local divide are consuming media at the points. ِAbu Hajar Musab lays out his view that he too engages in jihad through his media activities, a trope that appears elsewhere about Daesh media.
Abu Anas al Faluji hammered home the ideological value of the media points, saying that the public needs to take advantage of the points in the correct way to raise awareness of the people and point them to the truth of what’s going on around them. One man in his 60s spoke of the pride he felt watching the images on TV at a media point, but as this was quoted by Daesh it’s impossible to know how genuine he was, or whether he was just telling them what they wanted to hear.
What I see so far, based on this limited source, I won’t try to theorize too deeply. I hope to find more empirical details about the points and hopefully some discussion of them will appear in testimony by those who have been on the inside and escaped. Clearly, Daesh sees an opportunity to get more of its propaganda and ideology in front of citizens who otherwise can’t access these media by building these points. They also claim they’re very popular, which may well be true. I’ve also seen that Daesh media is highly selective, does not report major losses, and exaggerates their institutional capacity. I will post more soon if I find more and better sources on this topic.
An article I helped co-author along with Lina Eklund, Martin Brandt, Alexander V Prischepov, and Petter Pilesjö has been published in Environmental Research Letters. Lina approached me some time ago while I was a visiting scholar in the Center for Middle Eastern Studies at Lund University and proposed this idea. Many iterations later, it’s published!
Follow this link to get to the publication itself: http://iopscience.iop.org/article/10.1088/1748-9326/aa673a/meta
For some time, Twitter and YouTube, among others, have fought to keep the organization’s content off their platforms. A week ago I would have told you that it seemed that Daesh had been effectively banned from YouTube and one couldn’t find their propaganda there. Yet just this week, that has apparently been upended.
A recent change in tactics has Daesh temporarily on the (digital) offensive, as they managed to upload so many of their videos to YouTube that the site couldn’t take them all down quickly enough. This latest wave of uploaded videos followed the attack in Westminster, London last week when an attacker managed to kill several and injure dozens. Khalid Masood’s story has led to many debating whether he acted alone or was guided by Daesh, as well as questioning how and when he was radicalized (here, here and here).
Whatever the answers to those questions about Masood’s radicalization are, it is interesting to see Daesh launch this new kind of attack with their media. For at least the last six months, the availability of the group’s videos and propaganda has been in steep decline, with many platforms and websites having adapted to ban the group’s content. Twitter has seen a marked decline in the number of ISIS accounts due to its efforts to shut them down.
Telegram has apparently become the encrypted messenger of choice, but it too took steps to delete large “channels” on its service to hinder Daesh spreading its message. Since that was 18 months ago, and the group still successfully uses Telegram, we can see that platform’s efforts have not been successful.
From the US government’s perspective, it has sought to create counter-messages to Daesh’s slick propaganda with weak results, to put it nicely. I’ve linked to an interesting account of the US State Department’s attempts in this regard below:
As accounts and interviews with those who have lived under Daesh rule in Syria and Iraq emerge, I have eagerly sought them out. It is one thing to study Daesh, to seek to understand its structures, its finances, its media, its violence. It is another, however, to understand the impact it has on people’s lives. Headlines that talk about capturing a new city, or losing control of one for that matter, obscure so much of the pain and violence that comes along with those noteworthy events. Their shocking nature also pushes us to dehistoricize, to forget what came before, all too easily slipping into assumptions that things there have been this way for some time. The Raqqa Diaries: Escape from “Islamic State” is a powerful antidote to these assumptions, generalized by those far away about events they only know through already simplified headlines.
The book is the result of the brave writing by a young man who lived under Daesh rule in Raqqa, the group’s organizational hub in Eastern Syria. With the help of Mike Thompsen, a BBC journalist, “Samer” the activist managed to smuggle his accounts out of Syria, to a third country, where they were translated and edited for presentation in this book. The end result is easy to read and accessible, at least on a literary level. On an emotional level, it is anything but easy to read, and is in fact very challenging. Readers will find it hard not to imagine themselves in Raqqa with Samer, experiencing the pain and trauma through his words.
Samer’s narrative of his life in Raqqa chronicles three broad periods to acquaint readers with Syria. Through memories, Samer discusses growing up under the Assad regime. He chronicles how his father had problems with regime intelligence services, and disappeared for some time (p.39). Readers see the toll this takes on Samer’s family. It turns out Samer’s father had been reported to the Assad government as a political dissident by his manager at work and had been detained. His family ultimately had to bribe the boss who had leveled the charges against Samer’s father. Samer’s mother sold her jewelry and a small piece of land they owned to get him out, but even in freedom Samer’s father had already lost so much. “I couldn’t understand how someone could take everything we knew from us like this” Samer says on p.46. “Not only was all this happening under the eyes of the (Assad) government, it had their complete support.” Additionally, Samer mentions the 1982 Hama Uprising and how it was crushed by government violence. Because it was not covered in the media, Samer states that Syrians have learned from this and approached things differently this time, making sure to film and put images online of government actions (p. 47).
Once the uprising began in Syria several months after the initial movements of the Arab Spring, events in Syria snowballed from peaceful protest marches to violent escalating clashes with the Assad government, recalcitrant in power. Samer describes his arrest, interrogation, and torture at the hands of the regime (p.50). “This didn’t stop me,” he states. “If anything, it made me more rebellious.”
The final period the book details, as its name suggests, is life under ISIS rule once the organization seized control of Raqqa. I won’t quote the details here, but Samer describes many of the repressive and violent realities he was exposed to. The public sphere loses its vitality, and becomes a place where bad things happen. Samer and others want to stay home just to avoid interactions with Daesh. The store Samer’s family ran for years can’t make money anymore, it is too hard to move goods through the war zone and they reach Raqqa with very high prices. These give a tiny glimpse into the very real changes Daesh rule brought to Raqqa.
On specific anecdote about life under Daesh in Samer’s account caught my attention. While walking home, Samer was warned, cryptically, not to walk down a given street. He had an idea what this meant, but his human curiosity got the best of him. What he saw was shocking enough I will leave it out of this review. Even if he hadn’t been warned, such a sight would shock and traumatize anyone, but the human element of his inability to stay away was the most telling to me. Everything Samer had experienced was easily enough to make him avoid such sights, to take the advice of his friend. Yet those who live under ISIS rule are just as human as anyone, in all their virtues, vices, tendencies and shortcomings.
This account should be considered a primary source for the study of life under ISIS, and as such I highly recommend it. It brings the humanity, emotions, and trauma of those who have experienced life under ISIS into detail on its pages. Where other works I have read mostly deal with the history leading to the group’s emergence, this work is head and shoulders above the others to give one a sense of human life in Syria before the uprisings, during the Syrian War, and finally under Daesh rule.
This is a talk I gave at my home institution, the University of Washington, in November of 2016, organized by the Middle East Center of the Jackson School of International Studies (JSIS). In this talk, I focus on banal details of ISIS rule that are often ignored. As I say in the intro, I am not trying to legitimize their rule, but rather I want to analyze it. I do so to try to push our collective knowledge about the ISIS terrorist organization. I’d be happy to try to answer questions or comments in the comments section at the bottom of the page.