By Noah Rothman
Thursday, January 02, 2025
There are a number of perfectly valid explanations for
the initial insistence by FBI agent Alethea Duncan that the mass-casualty
attack in New Orleans on New Year’s Day was not a terrorist event.
Perhaps Duncan was speaking with undue authority based on
her own limited information. Or maybe she was observing the bureau’s definition
of what constitutes “an act of terrorism,” as CNN’s Juliette Kayyem speculated, which requires the
establishment of motives, including the furtherance of ideological goals
through violence, before an act can be deemed a terrorist attack. Possibly.
Either way, Duncan’s declarative statement was wholly inaccurate.
In the hours that followed, the FBI determined that this was an act of not just
terrorism but radical Islamist terrorism. The suspect, Shamsud-Din Jabbar, was
believed to have been acting in concert with other unidentified individuals,
some of whom likely helped him construct what police believe were viable
explosive devices. Law enforcement cannot rule out operational links between the New Orleans
attack and an event that took place almost simultaneously in Las Vegas, where a
Tesla Cybertruck exploded outside the Trump International Hotel; the Cybertruck
was rented through the same firm that provided Jabbar with the vehicle he used
to mow down his targets on Bourbon Street.
At a time when trust in federal law enforcement is on
the wane, it’s reasonable to assume that the FBI would do its best to avoid
trust-sapping 180-degree reversals like these. Perhaps Duncan’s reflexive
dismissal of the obvious implications in this attack is little more than one
agent getting out over her skis. But her remarks also fit a pattern in which
American public officials seem more inclined to shape public attitudes and
behaviors by either withholding information about ongoing crises from citizens
or actively misinforming them.
There’s plenty the public already knew — or could have
known — about the nature of this particular attack from the outset. We knew
that ramming attacks like the one that took place in New Orleans are
increasingly common. One took place in Germany just weeks ago, and that event
was preceded by similar attacks in France, Wisconsin, and New York City. We
knew that the threat level has been elevated since the Hamas October 7 massacre
in Israel, and law enforcement has rolled up several sprawling terrorist plots with foreign connections in the intervening months. Despite this record, we also know
that law enforcement has not been able to interdict every terroristic plot, as the Mauritanian national who shot “an identifiably orthodox
Jewish man walking to synagogue in Chicago” while shouting “Allahu Akbar!” in
Chicago last October grimly suggests.
Moreover, we know that the Islamic State has been
reconstituting itself — particularly in areas of the world where the West’s
influence is limited. “We continue to see a real threat in Iraq and Syria,” Ian J. McCary, the State Department’s deputy special envoy
for the global coalition to defeat ISIS, said in March. In addition, “we have
seen the emergence of ISIS affiliates — the so-called ISIS Khorasan inside
Afghanistan, which poses a clear external threat — and in Sub-Saharan Africa
where several ISIS affiliates have emerged.” The situation is particularly
bleak in Africa, where “the security situation” has “deteriorated
significantly” in recent years. “Approximately 60% of ISIS propaganda comes
from sub-Saharan Africa,” McCary observed, “particularly from ISIS affiliates
in Nigeria, The Democratic Republic of Congo, and Mozambique.” His remarks
provide little confidence that “the fight against ISIS . . . in the information
space” is going well.
There are hard calls to make here. Charity and discretion
should compel those of good faith to acknowledge the difficulties. In the
immediate wake of a terrorist event, does it serve the public interest to
provide anxious Americans with unvetted, raw information that could contribute
as much to a panic as to enhanced vigilance? The answer isn’t obvious. But the
alternative to providing the public with information that may produce
undesirable behaviors cannot be the distribution of misinformation designed
to manipulate them. Too often, public officials have deferred to the idea that
the public needs to be controlled more than informed.
This tendency was on display in the response from public
officials to the outbreak of Covid-19. Masking was deemed “not effective in
preventing” the virus’s spread, not because that was true but because the
government’s priority was to prevent civilians from hoarding masks and limiting
hospitals’ access to personal protective equipment, as Dr. Anthony Fauci later admitted. Likewise, he later
confessed to simply making up numbers that would constitute the point at which
we had achieved “herd immunity” to boost vaccination uptake. “When polls said
only about half of all Americans would take a vaccine, I was saying herd immunity
would take 70 to 75 percent,” Fauci told New York Times reporters. “Then, when newer surveys
said 60 percent or more would take it, I thought, ‘I can nudge this up a bit,’
so I went to 80, 85.” Whatever the altruistic rationale for these deceptions,
the damage the public health apparatus has done to the profession’s reputation doesn’t seem to have been worth it.
Other similar mendacities are far less comprehensible.
Among them was a claim retailed by “experts” surveyed by the Thomson Reuters
Foundation at the height of the Me Too movement that, when it came to
protecting and even sanctioning sexual assault and human trafficking, the
United States was on par with countries such as Somalia, Pakistan, Yemen, and
Nigeria. It was a falsehood that could be propagated only by those who thought
the lie a useful tool to promote their ideological project.
We may never know enough about the internal deliberations
that culminated in Agent Duncan’s promotion of a falsehood — a deception that
could be attributed just as easily to the fog of war as to a sordid impulse to
save the public from themselves. But the fact that we cannot rule out the
latter, given how frequently American luminaries and public officials resort to
promoting manipulative fabrications, is part of the problem.
American institutionalists spend a lot of time thinking about how they might restore
the public’s faith in the country’s governing bodies. They should start by
displaying the sort of trust in the American public that they expect the
Americans to invest in them.
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