Ronald J. Granieri: The Death of Public Enemy #1

I went to bed early Sunday night, and thus did not hear the big news about the capture and killing of Osama bin Laden until this morning when I received an email from the RP himself asking me if I wanted to write a response. After receiving the note, I turned on my radio (which is of course tuned to NPR, because I am a College Professor) and heard the details. My initial reaction was surprise, for two reasons: I was surprised that the search for bin Laden was still ongoing, and I was surprised by how ambivalent the news made me feel.

Historians have a bad and well-earned reputation for being killjoys, so I am sure that few will be surprised by my ambivalence, but I hope my thoughts on the subject can be a useful spur to further debate.

Certainly, the elimination of a terrorist mastermind and mass murderer with thousands of deaths on his conscience cannot be anything but a good thing, and I am happy to think that some of the families of bin Laden’s victims can enjoy the thought that the man responsible for such crimes as 9/11 has been brought to justice. I have to admit discomfort with the idea that the team of SEALs went in with explicit orders to kill rather than capture bin Laden for trial. At the same time I rather doubt that he would have been willing to be taken alive, and am aware of the enormous problems that a trial would have posed, so I do not think it makes much sense to cavil at that subject.

The real source of my ambivalence is the feeling that no one really knows what this will mean in the long run. The US has scored a major symbolic victory, but it does not mean the end of the conflict in which the US and its allies are presently engaged. Furthermore, the nature of that struggle demands that we not fall prey to complacency after one success, however satisfying.

One can already read and hear experts reminding us that bin Laden has been more of a figurehead than an operational leader in recent years. His power lay in his charisma, and in his continued existence, which in itself was a form of defiance of American power. On that score, his death at the hands of American forces can provide a potent counter-symbol. Lower-level jihadists may think twice when faced with this reminder of both American resolve and American capability to strike back at its enemies. Symbols, however, can be quite fungible, and I am certain that many hardcore supporters of bin Laden will simply view his martyrdom at the hands of the Crusaders as the crowning element in his legend.

Within the US, bin Laden’s death is also a potent political symbol, though of uncertain long-term value. It has given President Obama a chance both to emphasize his continued vigorous prosecution of the War on Terror (in his speech Sunday night, he emphasized that he had personally ordered the SEALs into action) and, subtly, to point out that he succeeded where his predecessor failed. Killing bin Laden may do more for his standing with skeptical voters than any number of long form birth certificates. At the same time, whatever support Obama receives in the short term will no doubt fade as campaign rhetoric heats up. I have already heard one guest on CNN this morning using bin Laden’s death as a chance to denounce the Clinton and Obama administrations for their handling of al-Qaeda, and there will certainly be others in the future.

Since 9/11, one of the most contentious debates within the political class has been whether al-Qaeda and terrorism in general pose primarily a diplomatic/strategic or a criminal threat. Some Europeans, drawing on their experiences with long-term terrorism, have emphasized the latter, and have focused on detective work and infiltration, as one uses with organized crime, while Americans have tended to emphasize the former, and thus have insisted on responding to their attacks with the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, with drones and SEALs. Secretary of State Clinton straddled the divide in her remarks this morning when she referred to bin Laden’s “Syndicate of Terror.” Bin Laden’s death brings this debate back into focus. For if the Global War on Terror is a war like earlier wars, the death of the “leader” of the enemy should be decisive. If, however, terrorism is a longer-term threat of varying intensity, drawing on deeper social and political disagreements, the death of one leader may simply lead to the emergence of another. For the former case, the obvious (and admittedly, overused) parallel is the death of Hitler in his bunker. For the latter, think of the FBI’s successful pursuit of bank robber John Dillinger, culminating in the hail of bullets in front of the Biograph Theater in Chicago. Both were moments of great immediate symbolic importance, but had very different practical consequences. Hitler’s death signaled the end of his regime; Dillinger’s just meant that John Dillinger would not be robbing any more banks. It did not mean that no more banks would be robbed, and it did not keep the FBI from identifying future candidates for the role of Public Enemy #1.

All caveats about historical parallels aside, right now bin Laden looks to me more like Dillinger than Hitler. His death ends a chapter, but certainly not the larger story. Nihilist jihadism has not been eliminated, of course. We may even see a new wave of attacks from those who seek to avenge bin Laden. The larger challenges of seeking peace and stability in the Middle East also remain. Furthermore, the questions raised by bin Laden’s location (such as, how could a modern compound, with a high security wall, be built just down the road from a Pakistani military academy without anyone in the Pakistani military inquiring about the residents?) highlight many unresolved issues in relations between the US and its allies.

Thus as much as we may enjoy the brief moment of success, there is still a lot of work to be done, and the end is still far off. As is so often the case, it will be future historians who will be able to look back and argue whether this moment was truly decisive or not. And many of their readers will call them killjoys, too.