With the exception of the postscript, your book was written before the tragic events of September 11, 2001. Two or three years ago, what inspired you to write a book on terrorism and biblical faith?

Lee Griffith: What initially set me to writing were the violent events surrounding the 1998 bombings of the U.S. embassies in Kenya and Tanzania and the subsequent U.S. cruise missile attacks on Sudan and Afghanistan. Already in that earlier exchange of terrorism and counterterrorism, several themes were emerging which persist to this day. It was already clear that, as part of the effort to drive Soviet forces out of Afghanistan in the 1980's and 90's, the United States had helped to organize, fund, and arm some of the very "freedom fighters" who were now coming back to haunt us as "terrorists." Already in 1998, there were Manichean denunciations of the embassy attackers as mere "evildoers" and "enemies of freedom," while at the same time others were engaging in dualistic denunciations of the United States as "the Great Satan." Such simplistic dualism engenders simplistic remedies: end evil by killing evil people. When violence is the proffered solution, however, we persistently run the risk of becoming that which we claim to oppose — mere terrorists. The presumption that we can defeat terrorism by inflicting sufficient quantities of death is in fact a victory for terrorism — not on the battlefield, but in our very souls. In the book, I trace some of the history in which the church has been plagued by a tendency towards ethical dualism, a primary example being the crusades of the 11th through the 13th centuries. I present the case that biblical faith does not ultimately sustain the view of ethical dualism, nor does it prescribe violence as the antidote for violence.

An old cliché asserts that one person's "terrorist" is another person's "freedom fighter." Is there any way to establish an objective definition of "terrorism"?

Lee Griffith: That's an important question, and it's one that merited a fair amount of attention in the first chapter of the book. In English, Edmund Burke popularized the term "terrorism" as he was commenting on the French Revolution. It was Burke who exempted the state from charges of "terrorism" and who defined "terrorists" as those who practice subversion of the state. Thus, horrendous actions by nation states are rarely characterized as terrorism. In contrast, governments around the globe have been promiscuous in labeling their opponents as "terrorists." It is a term that Russia uses against fighters in Chechnya, and Turkey uses against the Kurds, and Spain uses against the Basque separatists, and on and on. While the term "terrorism" entered the popular vocabulary only in the last few centuries, there is a much older phenomenon that tries to depict the violence of an adversary as especially unjust and reprehensible. Indeed, Augustine differentiated between the military defense of the Roman Empire and the mere cruelty of the "barbarian" invaders of Rome. The anxiety to draw such distinctions no doubt contributed to Augustine's formulation of the just war theory. Today, the term "terrorism" functions most often as a tool of the propagandist. Whether the term refers to a reality in addition to propaganda is a question I explore in chapter one.

Recently, the media have been filled with stories about "Islamic terrorism," but you don't even like the phrase, do you?

Lee Griffith: No. I believe the phrase is insulting to Muslims. There is no similar proclivity to name Timothy McVeigh a "Christian terrorist." Likewise, when Pakistan acquired nuclear weapons, the proclamation that "Now Islam has the bomb" was not matched by any similar designation of American weapons as "Christian nukes." In the West, there is a common perception that Christianity is not a monolithic reality, but neither is Islam. Yes, there have been Muslims who have engaged in horrible violence, but there have also been Muslim pacifists. In the book, I explore some of the history of Western prejudice against Islam, including prejudices regarding the phenomenon mistakenly named "Muslim fundamentalism." Islam is no more generative of terrorism than any of the major world religions, all of which have given rise to groups that have subsequently been labeled "terrorist." Associations between religion and terrorism are due to the human need to invest our bloodletting with transcendent meaning. There is nothing inherently meaningful or sublime about bloodshed because, as entomologists tell us, even ants wage wars. To be recruited for violence, humans require reassurance that we are about to kill or die in a worthwhile cause, or better still, a holy cause. Leaders of terrorist bands and mighty nation states alike offer such reassurance.

What would you list as some of the primary dangers of the war on terrorism?

Lee Griffith: First would be the loss of human life, which was also the great tragedy of the September 11 attacks. Of course, as the United States launches its war in response, there are assurances that the military is being meticulous in its efforts to avoid the "collateral damage" of civilian casualties. Even if these assurances are completely sincere, what is a soldier but a civilian in uniform? And even when civilians are not the immediate targets of firepower, war does more than anything else on the planet to spread homelessness, famine, and disease. A second danger of the war on terrorism is the increasing militarization of society. Already, the United States spends more on the military than the next fifteen nations combined. Nonetheless, politicos are citing the war on terrorism as cause for diverting still more resources away from pressing human needs like health care and elder care. A third danger is the loss of civil liberties. With the exception of some of the most unsavory dictatorships, the United States imprisons a higher percentage of its own citizens than do other nations on the planet. All of the current moves towards military tribunals and detention without charges and increased surveillance betray an underlying conviction that freedom and security are values, which are antagonistic to one another, and that security trumps freedom. Taken together, these dangers mean that the war on terrorism does not renounce terror; it embraces terror as an efficacious instrument for us to yield. God too becomes an instrument for our wielding — a mere tribal deity who may be marched out to bless our assorted wars and join in the terror of them.

In the format of your book, each chapter has three parts — first a commentary on current events, then a relevant case study from church history, and then biblical exegesis and reflection. In the third part of chapter four, you focus on the Revelation of John, a book regarded by some believers and nonbelievers alike as esoteric. What led you to the book of Revelation?

Lee Griffith: In chapter four, I try to explore manifestations of terrorism that have been motivated by apocalypticism. These range from Thomas Müntzer in the 16th century to contemporary movements like Aum Shinrikyo in Japan and some Identity Christian and militia groups in America. Of course, when apocalypticism enters the picture, it is mandatory to give at least some consideration to Revelation. But in fact, I find Revelation to be less a book about the end of the world than a book that unveils the beastly nature of empire.

Besides apocalypticism, I was led to Revelation by the wish to explore the rich diversity of biblical references to "the terror of God" and "the fear of God." As might be expected, such references are found in prophetic literature and in the holy war tradition associated with the so-called "conquest" of Canaan. (I say "so-called" because, as I explain in the book, I find merit in the alternative revolt model of Israel's origins as put forward by Gottwald, Mendenhall, and other scholars.) References to "the terror of God" also turn up in surprising places like Job and elsewhere in wisdom literature. The book of Revelation is not primarily a book about God's judgment and God's wrath. Indeed, Revelation places more emphasis on joy and hope. In Revelation, the terror of God is not associated with destruction but with resurrection and with the reign of the slaughtered lamb.

As you write about current events, your criticisms of America's political leadership extend to both Republicans and Democrats. Were you intentionally adopting a stance of nonpartisanship?

Lee Griffith: No, I didn't try to set aside party allegiance. I have no party allegiance. I don't vote for a Commander-in-Chief because I don't want one. In addition, I believe that electoral politics is part of the problem in America if we assume that stepping into a voting booth once every few years fulfills our public responsibility. But in confessing my lack of enthusiasm for political parties, I'm not trying to claim that I am a neutral, objective observer. I think scholars are becoming increasingly aware that claims to total objectivity are pretenses - and not very helpful pretenses at that. Certainly, all writers should strive to be accurate and responsible with the source materials they use, but I think that writers should also acknowledge their own prejudices and allegiances. In the preface to the book, I acknowledge my own prejudice in favor of biblical pacifism. At several points in the book, I also admit to liking biblical anarchism as exemplified by people like Leo Tolstoy, William Lloyd Garrison, Dorothy Day, Jacques Ellul, and others.

So then, if electoral politics is not a form of engagement that appeals to you, what do you do — what do any of us do in response to terrorism and the war on terrorism?

Lee Griffith: That's a question that calls for prayerful consideration for each individual and for faith communities. Since the beginning of the current war on terrorism, some friends and I have been taking to the streets weekly in an attempt to witness for peace and to protest the bombing of Afghanistan. That is not a popular position. But in a time when the national desire for retaliation is strong, we believe it becomes even more important to respond to the material needs of the victims of violence — both the survivors of the September 11 attacks and the survivors of the war in Afghanistan. I have found that church service organizations are better conduits than government agencies for the unbiased distribution of aid to people in need. Oxfam is a secular organization that also succeeds in distributing international aid without regard for national, religious, or political affiliation. In the final chapter of the book, I recommend a variety of actions that can be taken to move beyond the downward spiral of terror and counterterror. Some of these recommendations are addressed to the principalities and powers, but an equal number are suggestions on how we can become engaged as individuals and as communities. One of the suggestions calls upon the church to beware of any preachments that associate the wrath of God with destruction and violence. In biblical perspective, it is the resurrection that is the terror of God; the resurrection is terror to all who assume that death and bloodshed will have the final word.