of anarchism, and violent outrages do not advance, but set back, the cause of
democracy. The movement against the Vietnam War (1965–73) created, in addition
to a legitimate and sensible protest movement, small numbers of practitioners of
political violence (whom we can legitimately call terrorists) like the Weathermen,
who attacked the officials and property of the state (Harmon, 2000: 6).
Terrible ironies accompany the use of violence in liberal states. Take, for example,
attacks by animal rights activists on the directors of companies believed to be
involved with testing on animals. These movements justify the most appalling
suffering of humans (who are also a kind of animal as well), and actions like these
are invariably used by the media to diminish public sympathy for the animal rights
cause. Is the destruction of property rather than individuals to be seen as terrorist
(and not simply politically violent) in nature?
There are two problems here. The first is that the use of violence against property
can easily (if unintentionally) harm individuals who are protecting such property,
and the illegal nature of the act can have adverse political consequences. We would
describe violence against property as a ‘soft’ political violence since in most circum -
stances peaceful forms of protest can create a change in opinion and would be more
productive. But breaking the law per se does not count as political violence, and in
the movement in Britain against the poll tax in the late 1980s, widespread public
support was created for acts of defiance. The poll tax or community charge was
calculated according to the number of people inhabiting a house, rather than the
value of the property itself. In general, it could be argued that violence against
property is likely to be counterproductive and set the struggle for democracy back.
The cause is invariably overshadowed by the damage caused, and so the content of
the protest is lost.
The use of violence in liberal societies is always inclined to be ideologically
ambiguous. Laqueur argues with some justification that groups of the extreme left
often merge with, and become indistinguishable from, groups of the far right. Anti-
Semitism may characterise practitioners of political violence who claim emancipation
as their objective, and Laqueur poses the question: ‘Is Osama bin-Laden a man of
the left or right? The question is, of course, absurd’ (2003: 8). But why? It is true
that the extreme left can merge with the extreme right – but the distinction between
left and right is still useful. Anti-liberalism can easily be left wing in character, but
it depends upon whether this infringement of liberal values is resorted to as an
attempt to emancipate humanity or privilege a particular group. The kind of Islamic
fundamentalism that Al-Qaeda espouses is right wing, not simply because it is
authoritarian, but because it opposes (even in the future) democracy, female
emancipation, toleration, etc. It is impossible to be a left-wing anti-Semite although
one can certainly be critical of the state of Israel and therefore be an anti-Zionist.
Anti-Semitism is a particularistic creed (i.e. it does not espouse the freedom of all
humans) and can therefore be legitimately characterised as a right-wing doctrine.
Ideological ambiguity arises when logically incompatible elements are mixed together
and whether something is of the extreme right or the extreme left depends upon
the overall judgement we make of the mix.
Was Muammar Qaddafi (1942–2011), the former leader of Libya, a man of the
left and right? He was a mixture but his nationalist chauvinism would tend to make
him more right than left wing, although we would accept that authoritarian methods
can be presented in the name of emancipation. As Harmon notes, his work extolling
Chapter 20 Political violence 451