Over the past few days we have constantly heard the refrain, from politicians and religious leaders, that there can never be any justification for acts of terror against innocent civilians. Yet this statement is very puzzling for, in the eyes of the perpetrators and those who are responsible for their actions, we encounter people who are willing to sacrifice their lives, and the lives of countless others, for what they consider to be an issue of life and death. In fact, in their view the issue is more important than life and death.
Are we simply looking at a world which is becoming increasingly irrational and out of control? Or is it possible to understand what motivates the fanatics to commit these heinous acts? A number of studies have shown that fanatics are often driven by their particular religious outlook. The attempt to understand their motives may help us come to terms with, and eventually overcome the violence, as well as overcome those who perpetrated it.
The shock of the last few days is preventing many from discussing the underlying issues. When violence becomes so prevalent throughout the world, it is too easy to simply talk of "deranged minds". We need to ask ourselves: "What is it in the way we are living and treating each other that makes violence seem plausible to so many people?" Why is their anger so deep and their desperation so intense that they have been led to commit this outrage?
To understand what drives a fanatic one has to consider various factors. One is simply scapegoating and the demonisation of the "other". Historically, demonisation has served as a means to sharpen the distinction between "us," the good people and "them," the bad people. Demonising the Jew as the personification of evil, for example, was the image hovering between the lines of documents drafted at the recent UN conference against racism in Durban.
Should we conclude that the identification of the Jew with the devil - an early Christian invention - has now become the province of the Middle East and provides the context for this attack? Language is therefore a central issue and the media, as well as politicians, must be careful not to add to the confusion and the scapegoating.
Also, you cannot say you are for peace while you use the language of death and destruction. While Arabs have generally portrayed Israel as the tool of American imperialism, the Iranians have described America as "the Great Satan" and Israel as "the Little Satan". On the other hand, the simplistic equation of Muslim with Arab, common in Western media, is false. Many Arabs are Christians and many Jewish Israelis are Arabs. Another example of prejudice in Western society is the stereotypical image of a Muslim who is often depicted in the media as a man with a long beard holding a Kalashnikov. This portrait fails to depict Islam but illustrates our own prejudices. It is often forgotten that the most populous Muslim country in the world is Indonesia, many miles from the Middle East.
A number of commentators have talked about the Israeli-Palestinian violence as a backdrop to these attacks. Again one has to be careful because well after the Oslo peace process and before the Intifada uprising began, the World Trade Centre was bombed and the culprits were associated with Osama bin Laden.
However, it is certainly true that violence in Israel and the Palestinian Autonomy has exacerbated the language of hate. What is particularly worrying today is that the demonisation of "the other", the Jew, has filtered into Arab schoolbooks. Textbooks used in refugee camps describe Jews as the enemy of God and the enemy of Islam.
According to one mainstream Palestinian newspaper, Al-Ayyam, (September 2nd, 2001): "The Zionist Movement is an American invention . . . The American leaders are nothing but priests, obedient to their Hebrew High Priest . . ." Is it a surprise that some children who are taught such hatred at school may grow into adults who carry out acts of terror? Last week, Paul Spiegel, head of the Central Council of Jews in Germany, appealed to Chancellor Gerhard Schr÷der about the language used in school texts, partly funded by the EU, and suggested, understandably, that they "sow the seeds for bomb attacks".
Waving a book of anti-Semitic cartoons distributed at the Durban conference, UN High Commissioner Mary Robinson - in a dramatic act of identification with the 'other' vilified in the pamphlet - declared "I am a Jew". She has shown us an example that, in the cause of peace and reconciliation, we must condemn the language of violence wherever it is used.
On the other side of the same coin, Muslim fanatics are also driven by an increasing prejudice in the West against Muslims. Islamophobia also provides a context to these horrors. Despite the presence of violence in many regions of the world and involving many religions, the West associates Islam more than any other religion with violence.
The Muslim conquest of Spain, the Crusades - which were not begun by Muslims - and the Ottoman domination of Eastern Europe have provided a historical memory of Islam as being related to force and power. Moreover, the upheavals of the past few decades ithe Middle East - especially movements using the name of Islam and seeking to solve the problems of Muslims created by conditions and causes beyond their control - have only reinforced the idea in the West that Islam is related to violence.
Yet, not only is the word "islam" related to the word peace (salaam), but the history of Islam has certainly not been witness to any more violence than other civilizations. It is tempting to believe we are witnessing a battle between civilisations. It is no such thing.
The fanatics are small in number and the vast majority of Muslims stand totally opposed to violence. Rights of human beings are defined by Islamic law and protected by this law which embraces not only Muslims but also followers of other religions who are considered as "People of the Book" (in other words, Jews and Christians).
According to some Muslim thinkers if there is nevertheless violation in Islamic society, it is due not to the teachings of Islam but the imperfection of the human recipients of the Divine message. Rabbi Hugo Gryn, a survivor of Auschwitz, put this point somewhat differently. The question is not, where was God at Auschwitz, but rather, where was man? To a certain extent, the fanatics reflect our estrangement from God. Yet, are they so different from the vast majority of us? Perhaps we should look closer to home and within our own religious traditions. The willingness of someone to give up his own life for a greater cause is not unknown to religion. The three Abrahamic faiths - Judaism, Christianity and Islam - extol self-sacrifice, the virtue of which stands at the heart of each.
This is illustrated by one of the most famous stories in the Bible - the Sacrifice of Isaac. This story is similarly depicted in Islam, except Ishmael is viewed as the son Abraham wishes to sacrifice, rather than Isaac.
The focus of the story is normally understood as Abraham's relationship with God and how his faith was demonstrated by his willingness to sacrifice his long-awaited son at God's command.
As a piece of writing, the biblical account has everything. It has tension and drama. Enough action for a five-act play. Yet it is compressed into 18 verses. It is packed with energy and dynamism. It is a paradigm of Aristotle's catharsis, arousing both terror and pity. It deals with the biggest themes and touches the deepest emotions. And, it seems to have a happy ending.
It has everything except one - an immediately apparent, morally acceptable and topically relevant message. How could Abraham reconcile the bizarre demand by God to sacrifice his son against the divine promise that he would be the ancestor of a people who would spread throughout the world? In the three faiths, Jewish, Christian and Muslim, commentators commend Abraham and describe how Abraham passed the test with flying colours. If those who have perpetrated the violence of the past few days have any religious affiliation, the story of the Sacrifice of Isaac would have been close to their hearts. It is perhaps for this reason that we need to reconsider Abraham's response to God's command. Abraham's willingness to fulfil the command to sacrifice, immediately and obediently, mirrors the sacrifice of the suicide terrorists.
Of course the sacrifice of one son, even a promised son, cannot be compared to the sacrifice of thousands of innocent people. However, in the mind of the suicide bomber it was the act of sacrifice which counted, not the cost of innocent lives. For Abraham also, it was the command to sacrifice that was of concern, not the pleading of the son (whether it be Ishmael or Isaac). Judaism, Christianity and Islam have traditionally extolled Abraham's actions. It is now overdue to state that Abraham failed the test. Some rabbis have suggested that God wanted Abraham to challenge and question the command as he did at Sodom and Gommorah. In fact, God waited until the last possible moment before preventing the sacrifice in order to give Abraham as much time as possible to consider mounting a challenge. It was Abraham's failure on Mount Moriah that had such an impact on Isaac.
There is even a Jewish tradition that Isaac died during the test and that the angel was too late to save him. According to this tradition Isaac was restored in bodily form, that is, he was resurrected. Nevertheless, his ashes remained upon the altar. In rabbinic tradition, the image of Isaac's ashes should perhaps be interpreted to mean that, as a result of what Abraham did to his son, part of Isaac died. Christian interpreters have also challenged the story. The 18th century German philosopher Immanuel Kant, for instance, asked how it was possible to know that God had spoken.
He suggested Abraham should have thought as follows: "that I must not kill my good son is quite certain, but that you who appear to me as God are indeed God, of this I can never be certain". In other words, the question as to whether the command is divine or human, lies in its moral influence. This leads me to conclude we not only live in an increasingly dangerous world but that its interconnectedness is illustrated by the outrages of the fanatic. In order to start coming to terms with terror, we must feel the pain of those who are suffering and work together to heal. We must try to feel the pain of Isaac (as Christians and Jews) or Ishmael (for Muslims); most of all we must question the response of Abraham and no longer extol the virtues of killing a beloved son.
Dr Edward Kessler is director of the Centre for Jewish-Christian Relations in Cambridge, England