“He lived a hero, he died a martyr … if they killed one Osama, a thousand others will be born,” says a comment on a Facebook group called “We are all Osama bin Laden.” The group was formed one hour after US President Barack Obama’s announcement of the al-Qaeda leader’s death. That Facebook group already has about 30,000 “likes.” Moreover, there are more than 50 similar groups on Facebook.
Reaction to bin Laden’s death on al-Jazeera and other Arabic news outlets has been mixed. Some view the man considered a mass murderer in the West as an icon, and his death and burial at sea at the hands of US forces will not undermine that perception in the eyes of his sympathizers.
Indeed, Egypt’s former Mufti, Sheikh Nasr Farid Wasil, has already declared bin Laden a martyr, “because he was killed by the hands of the enemy.”
(Sheikh Wasil, it should be made known, has no links or known sympathies for al-Qaeda and he represents a very different Islamic school of thought.)
Aside from the mixed signals online, in the virtual world, the critical question is whether eliminating bin Laden marks the beginning of al-Qaeda’s demise in reality. Some terrorist organizations have, of course, collapsed following the death of their charismatic leaders. The case of Shoko Asahara, the founder of Aum Shinrikyo (the Japanese group that organized the sarin gas attack on Tokyo’s subway in 1995), comes to mind here.
However, capturing and trying violent leaders is probably a better marker of the end of such organizations — the chances of such an outcome being higher when such leaders recant their views and call on their followers to lay down their arms. Abimael Guzman, the leader of the Maoist Shining Path in Peru, and Abdullah Ocalan, the leader of the Kurdistan Workers’ Party in Turkey, are notable examples of this.
By contrast, far from causing the demise of an armed movement, the killing of a charismatic leader at the hands of his enemies can transform such a figure into a martyr. Che Guevera was far more valuable to leftist militancy after his death than he was while alive.
Armed Islamism has its particularities, of course, but it also shares important characteristics with some of these groups, including the relationship between the physical elimination of a leader and organizational survival. Decentralized organizations with relevant ideologies, operating in contexts full of conditions conducive to armed action, usually survive leadership losses, whereas hierarchical, cult-like organizations often do not.
Since the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks, al-Qaeda has been far from a hierarchical, cult-like organization. Abu Musab al-Zaraqawi’s al-Qaeda offshoot in Iraq demonstrates this well: The group was called al-Qaeda in Mesopotamia for recruitment and propaganda purposes, but it was quite autonomous, organizationally and operationally. When bin Laden’s close collaborator, Ayman al-Zawahiri, asked al-Zaraqawi to avoid targeting Shiites, al-Zaraqawi instead escalated the violence against them.
Al-Qaeda’s franchise model applies to Algeria, Yemen, North Mali and Somalia as well. And, like guerrilla movements of yore, al-Qaeda partakes of “ideological front” tactics: Small urban cells and/or vulnerable individuals subscribe to the ideology and self-recruit or self-start an affiliated cell.
In all of its decentralized modes of operation, bin Laden mainly played the role of inspirational guide and iconic figurehead — a role better played when dead by US guns than alive, hiding from them.