Violence and Narrative Control: Unpacking the Selective Labels of Terrorism Today

In a world where narratives shape perceptions and power dynamics, the recent events surrounding both the alleged shooting of health insurance CEO Brian Thompson and the revelations from Israeli soldiers about civilian casualties in Gaza highlight a troubling inconsistency in how violence is categorized. While Luigi Mangione has been charged with "murder as an act of terrorism" for his alleged crime, the broader context of violence—particularly that which is state-sanctioned or politically motivated—often escapes similar scrutiny. In a report by Haaretz, testimonies from IDF soldiers have surfaced, revealing that civilians in Gaza are being killed and subsequently labeled as terrorists to justify these actions. This duality in labeling invites a critical examination of what constitutes terrorism and who gets to decide. The soldiers’ confessions hint at a systematic approach to redefining victims as aggressors, raising alarming questions about accountability and moral justification in conflicts. Caitlin Johnstone, in her analysis, argues that the term "terrorist" is wielded as a tool for narrative control, manipulated by those in power to suit their agendas. When Mangione allegedly shoots a CEO, his actions are framed as a heinous act of terrorism—a narrative that demands public outrage and aligns with the fears of class warfare. In stark contrast, the violence inflicted upon civilians in Gaza is obscured, with the victims being recast as threats to national security, thus sanitizing the aggressor's actions. This selective application of the term "terrorism" reveals a broader pattern. Groups that once bore the label of terrorist can be redefined depending on their utility in geopolitical strategies. For example, the al-Qaeda affiliates in Syria, once vilified, have transformed into allies under the banner of U.S. foreign interests. Similarly, the ETIM, once categorized as a terrorist organization, now finds itself aligned with U.S. objectives in the region. Johnstone posits that this manipulation of narrative allows for the erasure of historical context. The grievances and provocations that lead to violence are conveniently overlooked. The empire's narrative often begins at the moment of retaliation, disregarding the circumstances that paved the way for such actions. The framing of these events creates a skewed understanding of aggression, where the systemic violence of healthcare denial, economic exploitation, and military encroachment go unrecognized. As society grapples with these complexities, Johnstone calls for an acknowledgment of all forms of violence and aggression—not just those that disturb the status quo of the powerful. The consequences of ignoring acts of aggression, such as environmental degradation and systemic inequality, foster a culture where only certain retaliatory actions are labeled as violence. In this milieu, it becomes essential for individuals to seek a comprehensive understanding of aggression and violence, recognizing the interconnectedness of various forms of harm. Challenging the narrative control exerted by those in power is vital for fostering a society that values truth and justice over the convenience of selective outrage. As we navigate these turbulent times, an acute awareness of how narratives are constructed and manipulated will be indispensable in holding both individuals and institutions accountable for their actions. The call for a broader definition of violence and aggression is not merely academic; it is a necessary step towards achieving a just and equitable society.