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TIME: Almanac of the 20th Century
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TIME, Almanac of the 20th Century.ISO
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1990
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93
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jan_mar
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03159925.000
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1994-02-27
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<text>
<title>
(Mar. 15, 1993) In the Name of God
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
Mar. 15, 1993 In the Name of God
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
COVER STORIES, Page 24
In the Name of God
</hdr>
<body>
<p>Often a sweet refuge, faith can also become a fortress of
merciless hatred
</p>
<p>By LANCE MORROW
</p>
<p> Those who glorify the idea of the world turning into a
global village may not know much about the behavior of people in
villages. Sometimes, as Cervantes understood, "there is more
harm in a village than is dreamt of."
</p>
<p> In any case, the global village--proliferating now into a
planetary city, with a few luxurious districts, and many
terrible slums, and some neighborhoods that are savage and very
dangerous--has no police force. The people of Bosnia know
this. What the global community does have is many churches.
Sometimes it is the faithful of the churches, and the mosques,
who need policing most of all.
</p>
<p> If you scratch any aggressive tribalism, or nationalism,
you usually find beneath its surface a religious core, some
older binding energy of belief or superstition, previous to
civic consciousness, previous almost to thought. Here is the
paradox of God-love as a life-force, the deepest well of
compassion, that is capable of transforming itself into a
death-force, with the peculiar annihilating energies of belief.
Faith, the sweetest refuge and consolation, may harden, by
perverse miracle, into a sword--or anyway into a club or a
torch or an assault rifle. Religious hatreds tend to be
merciless and absolute. The mystery is now on view among the
Hindus and Muslims of India, among the Islamic fundamentalists
of Egypt or Algeria, and among Orthodox Serbs and Bosnian
Muslims and Catholic Croats.
</p>
<p> Religion is sometimes a fortress for the beleaguered tribe
in the new world disorder. Every cult is a kind of nation. The
citadels bristle with intolerant clarities of doctrine--and
with high-caliber weapons. Outside Waco, Texas, a cult called
the Branch Davidians, apocalyptic and armed to the teeth, played
out a siege drama that owed something to Jim Jones' last hours,
when he and more than 900 members of his People's Temple cult
died in Guyana, and to some older religious Americana, like
Elmer Gantry, darkened with touches of the Road Warrior. The
tragedy in Texas was self-contained, and seemed a familiar story
of what happens when a group sealed away in paranoia succumbs
to the influence of a sort of preacherly hypnotist.
</p>
<p> Waco represented a micro-fanaticism. The week's other case
suggested larger issues, a macro-drama. It may have involved
religion in more political form. The arrest of a 25-year-old
Muslim named Mohammed Salameh raised the specter that the
bombing of Manhattan's World Trade Center was perhaps a
terrorist act of intense cultural symbolism, framed in
religious context. And it brought serious terrorism across the
American threshold for the first time.
</p>
<p> When the Berlin Wall came down and the Soviet Union
deconstructed and freedom swept across the old communist bloc,
American foreign policy analyst Francis Fukuyama offered a much
discussed thesis about what he called "the end of history,"
wherein, with communism gone, the world's civilization would
settle upon a kind of sun-splashed plateau of democratic
pluralism and free-market rationalism. One of the worst dangers
in the post-Fukuyama world might be boredom, a fitful cultural
unease.
</p>
<p> But obviously, "the end of history" has a dark, chaotic
side. The collapse of the binary cold war configuration has
produced an unstable, free-form arrangement of forces and
impulses loose in the world, often traveling forward or
backward at high historical speed. The world moves along a
double track, tending toward one extreme or the other--toward
economic internationalism and electronic interpenetrations, for
example, and at the same time toward monomaniacal nationalisms.
Toward intelligent tolerance on the one hand and toward
irrational religious tribalisms on the other. The trouble is
that the dark side tends to gain when fear and uncertainty are
rising. That is, in fact, the entire working dynamic of
terrorism.
</p>
<p> When Muslims, millions of them living in deepening poverty,
contemplate the materialist West, they experience a mixture of
repugnance and envy that often resolves itself into militant
fundamentalist anger. On the other hand, the West and some of
what comes with it (AIDS, drugs, pornography, the destruction
of family and community, for example) are in many ways as
dangerous and repulsive as a fundamentalist Muslim may believe.
</p>
<p> The world is becoming both more religious and more secular
simultaneously. In the U.S., for example, respect for religion
in areas of popular culture like music, books and television is
as low as it has ever been (see Madonna, or Gore Vidal's
elaborately blasphemous novel called LIVE from Golgotha). At
the same time, both religious observance and the press of
religious issues (questions of uncertainty, faith, anguish) are
rising. Church leaders repeatedly condemn violence done in the
name of religious tribalism--as Orthodox churchmen speak
against "ethnic cleansing" in Bosnia and as some Muslim leaders
criticize the bombing of the World Trade Center. But the
zealots press on, shattering the silence, blasting the
foundations.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>