Abstract
Since Mark Hamm and Ramon Spaaij’s The Age of Lone Wolf Terrorism (2017) hit shelves last year, the US has predictably been forced to confront several instances of mass violence to which we can apply the authors’ groundbreaking radicalization model. For instance, Nikolas Cruz, the young man responsible for 17 deaths and as many non-fatal injuries at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, frequently broadcast his intent vis-a-vis expressions of desire to become a ‘professional school shooter’, Instagram posts of himself posing with guns and stating he was going to commit a school shooting, and carrying bullets in his backpack. Nevertheless, law enforcement agencies, school professionals and other authorities failed to heed these warnings and intervene in Cruz’s plans. Hamm and Spaaij’s model, if properly disseminated, can help prevent tragedies like the Florida shooting; indeed, it is one answer to Emma Gonzalez, David Hogg and the other young Florida activists who have demanded action to prevent future shootings. In the midst of a US government administration that has been implicated in rising hate crime rates and political grievances that can inspire future acts of terror, this preventive potential is magnified.
Hamm and Spaaij aim to demystify lone wolf terrorism by depicting radicalization not as an arcane assembly of spurious variables that render prediction or prevention impossible, but rather as a social process with observable, comprehensible behaviours. They define a lone wolf terrorist as a person: who acts totally alone in the commission of political violence without the aid of a second party or more, although he or she may be influenced by outside sources, including books, propaganda, and media coverage of terrorists who have preceded them. (p. 24)
This definition acknowledges the sociological fact that, however much lone wolves may act alone, their acts remain bound by a broad array of social influences, both immediate and remote. To explore and support this definition, Hamm and Spaaij use multiple information sources, ranging from their original and exhaustive database of more than 123 cases aligned with their definition, to in-depth case studies, to interviews with both law enforcement agents and, remarkably, lone wolves themselves. The authors use this diverse data to present a model with five key assumptions: lone wolves become radicalized through 1) a combination of personal and political grievances, 2) affinity with online sympathizers or extremist groups, 3) assistance from enablers, 4) broadcasting of intent and 5) a triggering event, followed by the terrorist act. This model is not sequential; in fact, Hamm and Spaaij acknowledge that these steps may take place out of order, simultaneously, over many years or in rapid succession. No matter how the steps unfold, any combination of the five steps spells a potential attack. Hamm and Spaaij also engage historical documentation of the assassinations of Medgar Evers, Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King to argue that such acts are significant in terms not just of lives lost, but also of the far-reaching social changes they might engender. In other words, lone wolf attacks can change society, which makes their detection and prevention all the more crucial.
Hamm and Spaaij follow their preliminary arguments and review by discussing how American lone wolf terrorists have changed over time, using the events of 9/11 to approximate a demarcation of an older terrorist generation from a new one. In his 2017 review of the present book, cultural and religious scholar Kris Millett (2017) calls this demarcation arbitrary and even unnecessary, stating that the authors ‘foist a 9/11 dynamic onto the analysis where none is needed’ (Millett, 2017: 2) and, in so doing, omit some significant cases that do not gain explanatory power by accounting for 9/11. Millett (2017) is right to call attention to the idiosyncrasies of cases less connected to 9/11’s Islamist and imperialist dynamics, but his critique of the demarcation ignores the fact that it is difficult to overstate the profound nature of the social changes inspired by 9/11 for both Americans and Muslims impacted by US imperialism. One example of this lies in the differential FBI responses to nonwhite Muslims and white suspects, detailed below. If we accept the 9/11 demarcation, then modern lone wolves represent a significant demographic departure from their forebears, in that they tend to be single, white, urban, unemployed males with criminal records. Modern lone wolves are older than their organized counterparts, are less educated and have more serious and persistent mental illness diagnoses. Ultimately (and sociologically), lone wolves are products of relative deprivation in that the collective social, economic and psychological difficulties they face leave these men socially unmoored and more prone to developing the personal grievances that Hamm and Spaaij claim can lead to violent acts. Aside from strongly implied ameliorative social reforms, Hamm and Spaaij claim that the most important prevention element lies in learning to identify and respond when these alienated men broadcast their intent, which they depict masterfully in their extended case study of Omar Mateen’s Pulse nightclub shooting.
Hamm and Spaaij (2017) apply their radicalization model in detail to lone wolves Carlos Bledsoe and Richard Poplawski across two deeply convincing chapters, which they follow with a change of direction towards a two-chapter, critical evaluation of the FBI’s primary lone wolf interdiction strategy: sting operations. They show that lone wolf stings are deeply problematic for a number of logistical and ethical reasons, not least of which includes a pattern of targeting nonwhite Islamists, in spite of the evidence that angry white men continue to represent the greatest terrorist danger. Moreover, lone wolf stings target younger men, those without criminal histories and those with stable employment, thus placing the stings out of touch with the population currently more likely to become lone wolves. Hamm and Spaaij support their argument with numerous detailed case studies that indict the FBI for ultimately creating their own lone wolves and engaging in a process of ‘mythmaking’ to provide the appearance of doing something about lone wolf terrorism without actually accomplishing much of value. This behaviour not only fails to achieve the FBI’s stated objective, but also reflects the deeply unethical and time-honoured means some law enforcement agencies will use to maintain both the veneer of prestige and a steady funding stream. Hamm and Spaaij’s sting study closes a book bursting with insight and precision that leaves little to be desired; however, future researchers might build upon two of Hamm and Spaaij’s underexplored dimensions.
First, the authors implicate warrior subculture, a fusion of violence and politics with masculinity, as partially responsible for increases in lone wolf terrorism and the nascent shift to high velocity firearms as lone wolves’ weapon of choice. Part of this warrior subculture involves reframing violent acts as vindication coupled with the systematic dehumanization of victims and elevation of the self to a position of moral superiority. By dehumanizing potential victims and elevating their sense of moral superiority, lone wolves can come to view themselves as ‘soldiers’ fighting an urgent and necessary war – and war means violence. Something of interest to me is that, coincident with a more than 400% increase in line of duty deaths of US police since 9/11, a ‘thin-blue-culture’ has emerged concomitant with police militarization. This culture runs replete with state-specific, thin-blue-line stickers and coffee mugs emblazoned with Spartan helmets, ‘Molon Labe’ slogans and warnings that officers, usually ‘misunderstood’ and ‘underappreciated’, are ‘all that stands between the monsters and the weak’. Some officers have become soldiers by waging a moral crusade buttressed by the continual dehumanization of the communities they police. I would love to see a deeper, cultural criminological exploration of the linkages between these phenomena and the wider social shifts in late modern masculinity. On a personal note, it strikes me as a former law enforcement officer that many of the police and probation/parole officers with whom I worked possessed large stores of firearms, ammunition and off-duty tactical gear, including high-velocity combat rifles fixed with suppressors easily available from a local manufacturer. These officers expressed significant affinity with fringe political groups, such as the Oathkeepers and 3%ers. These officers were often angry white men. In hindsight, Hamm and Spaaij’s work leaves me to ponder how some of my partners charged with protecting their own communities were perhaps only a personal grievance and a triggering event away from their own act of terror. Second, although our authors do allow this issue some ‘airtime’, I would have liked some more exploration of how media forces depict lone wolves based upon race, whereby white wolves receive more benefit of the doubt vis-a-vis exculpatory mental illness discussions whilst nonwhite wolves are often cast by news anchors and others as exemplars of evil set to destroy Western life and values. Obviously, racially bound discourses do nothing to advance either racial justice or sensible policy responses. These two omissions do not detract from the overall value the authors offer in their exhaustive study. I applaud their effort to not only influence larger political changes, but also to suggest life-saving procedures we can apply on the road to social emancipation.