Farnham, Surrey, UK; Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2014. viii, 273 pp. (Illustrations.) US$119.95, cloth. ISBN 978-1-4724-1985-9.
Kathleen Gleeson’s book Australia’s ‘War on Terror’ Discourse is a timely reminder of a very recent past. Since 9/11 and the beginning of the “war on terror” discourse, terrorism has become a highly charged national security issue that the Howard government, and now the Abbott government, have tended to over-inflate when political popularity begins to falter.
As a result, government focus on terrorism in Australia and the associated domestic and international responses to it have become disproportionate when compared to the attention given to other serious crimes. Australians are arguably more likely to be a casualty of drug or alcohol-related crime or domestic violence than being the victim of a terrorist act. Even so, Prime Minister Abbott has made terrorism, particularly Islamic State-inspired acts, the number one national security concern—even though there is very little empirical evidence in Australia to justify his concern.
But domestic policies are not the only aspect of countering terrorism commonly exploited by politicians to maintain popularity—their unswerving support for the global war on terror is equally capitalized on. Just as Howard showed his undivided support for President Bush’s “war on terror” in Afghanistan following 9/11 and the 2003 invasion of Iraq, the Abbott government is about to send more troops back to Iraq to support President Obama’s US-led military action against the so-called Islamic State. This despite the endemic failures from military efforts in both Iraq and Afghanistan, which has become evident with the recent re-emergence of terrorism and militancy in both countries.
For the reader seeking to unravel how Australia has come to this unfounded or even counter-productive position, Gleeson provides an extremely constructive and empirically grounded explanation. Her book fills a significant void in the current literature about how the language used by Howard and his ministers shaped and continues to shape foreign policy and domestic national security in Australia. By placing terrorism at the top of the national security agenda and by relating it to “war” following 9/11, the Howard government set the scene for Australia’s response mechanisms to be over-reactive and perhaps counter-productive.
Gleeson skilfully conveys how Howard used “deep cultural grammar” that resonated well with the broader Australian community to maintain his popularity. However, this discourse became, as Gleeson posits, “dangerous in character, encouraging violence, exclusion, and fear and arguably not decreasing the incidence of terrorism” (3). Based on her analysis, I would argue that the Howard government’s hardline national security policies towards terrorism have been detrimental to social harmony and community relations, with some of Australia’s minority groups now feeling more alienated than ever.
Gleeson also highlights how Howard was able to cover up his immense spending on national security, including his contribution to the war in Iraq, by appealing to the broader cross-section of the Australian community’s core values of democracy, freedom, and justice. She describes Howard’s “tower of threat” posed by Iraq, which involved building a sense of threat by making the war more relevant to Australians with the goal of improving his chances of garnering further public support. But did our participation in Iraq make us safer? The answer is: probably not.
Gleeson cleverly shows how Australia’s “war on terror” discourse has hindered progress towards countering terrorism by branding the problem as “war,” which strongly implies that the terrorism problem requires a traditional military response. The ideological filter encased within the “war” metaphor is “militarism,” which sees the use of force as an appropriate means to solving problems. Gleeson establishes several key points: that metaphors play a central role in the construction of, and reaction to, social and political problems; they organize our thoughts, shape our discourse, and clarify our values; they can also increase the motivation for a particular action or remove inhibitions; and they legitimize particular policies by lending them force.
There is no doubt that the challenges posed by terrorism have tested the policing capacities of many countries and have threatened to expand the military influence into domestic law enforcement. Post-9/11 developments have manifested profound shifts in police and military roles. As a result of Howard’s posturing, counter-terrorism measures have seen law enforcement increasingly integrated into national security and military forces taking on law enforcement tasks as the lines between policing and military activities have become blurred.
Following the most recent siege hostage incident in Sydney on December 16, 2014, there has been considerable conjecture among politicians and community members alike about whether the military should have been called upon to resolve the siege more quickly. While Gleeson’s book was published before this incident, Howard’s “war on terror” discourse may be to blame for those considering a military response to such an incident, even though the police are clearly the most appropriate domestic response mechanism.
For scholars examining the causes of radicalization in Australia or those simply interested in the effects of certain narratives in national security policy making, Gleeson’s book is a must read. It should be equally appealing to those thinking about Australia’s current government politicking on terrorism because the further one reads Gleeson’s examination of Howard’s stance on national security and terrorism the more one sees history repeating itself. Gleeson thus provides a stark reminder that Australian policies to address terrorism need to change and the use of counter-productive language must end if we are going to truly defeat the threat—and not by war or military means.
Clarke Jones
Australian National University, Canberra, Australia
pp. 494-495