Obtaining French citizenship is not enough to secure social acceptance, and terror attacks committed in the name of Islam have critically impaired Muslims’ claims to national membership. Beginning with a discussion of how the construction of Muslims as a “suspect community” has impacted their daily lives, the chapter explores Muslim leaders’ efforts to display exemplary conduct to reassure majority members and circumvent the terrorist stigma. Their actions, such as organizing guided tours and open days in mosques, are emblematic of this endeavor, as well as of the asymmetrical burden of mutual understanding that characterizes postcolonial European societies. Moreover, embodying exemplariness involves cultivating Islamically justified dispositions for approachability and gentleness in daily interactions. Efforts to allay suspicions can also lead Muslim leaders of the UOIF to establish taboo forms of cooperation with intelligence officers, which highlights the ways in which the securitization of Islam relies partly on the involvement of certain community members. Overall, through their practice of disidentification from “Salafi,” “literalist,” and other “extremist” worshippers, French Muslim leaders tend to reinforce the distinction made by state authorities between “good Muslims” and “bad Muslims,” thereby deflecting the fundamentalist stigma onto some coreligionists.

Forms of violence and the literary avenues for expressing them constitute allegorical worlds that place them on the fringes of literature. Such worlds submerged under the normative conception of world assert their existence through violent bonds and alliances. Against the predominantly secular and centrist underpinnings in the world literature debate, the chapter construes worlds through malleable, multiple, and contra-normative temporal coordinates. World-making through violence, as Yasmina Khadra’s The Attack, Kae Bahar’s Letters from a Kurd, and Ahmed Saadawi’s Frankenstein in Baghdad show, unfolds deep within such temporalities where vernacular renditions of divine and organized vengeance have an insurgent mode. Contesting secular notions of the sublime as something to be revealed to the subject at the end of reason, the insurgent sublime manifests as an intrasecular force invoked on a whim at the limit of reason. This intrasecular sublime is salient to Sinan Antoon’s The Corpse Washer and Omar Robert Hamilton’s The City Always Wins, wherein death and dead bodies become breeding sites of violent alliances. Death in the two novels enables a thanatopolitical resistance where acts of naming, washing, resurrecting, and ennobling the dead lend themselves to a critique of necropolitical technologies that manufacture death as though it were a commodity.

Spying in South Asia examines the misguided and self-defeating Cold War interventions undertaken by British and American intelligence and security agencies in post-colonial India. British and American policymakers mounted intelligence operations in the Indian subcontinent on the basis of questionable, and often conflicting assumptions: that covert action could steer Indian opinion in a pro-Western direction; that British and American intelligence agencies could be insulated from Indian antipathy for colonialism and neo-colonialism; that Western intelligence support would corrode India’s relations with the Soviet Union; that controversies surrounding American intelligence practice would not cut through with the Indian public; that the subcontinent’s politicians would not employ the CIA as a lightning rod for India’s domestic travails; and that secret intelligence activity could help to arrest a decline in British and American influence in India. Today, India’s emergence as an economic titan, renewed Sino-Indian tensions, and backwash from the ‘War on Terror’, keep the subcontinent in the global headlines.

Spying in South Asia’s conclusion addresses the impact of the end of the Cold War, and the onset of a ‘war on terror’, on British and American intelligence relationships with India. It explores the rationale behind Indian governments’ softening of anti-CIA rhetoric from the mid-1980s, and the implications for New Delhi’s intelligence agencies of the precipitous collapse of the USSR, and the abrupt conclusion of the Cold War. It assesses factors underlying the post-Cold War recovery of Western secret services from the position of public pariahs in India to that of New Delhi’s principal partners in intelligence and security matters. In 1947, as the Cold War dawned and the newly independent subcontinent confronted formidable threats to its stability and security, New Delhi turned to London and Washington for covert support. Some half-a-century later, after decades of what might best be described as circumscribed cooperation compromised by conflict and conspiracism, the intelligence services of India, the United Kingdom, and the United States, once more found compelling reasons to put their differences aside, and work together as close partners in a new secret war.

Accounts of the historical origins of international humanitarian law (IHL) routinely assume that the emergence of humanity as a constraint on the waging of war, coinciding as it did with a general rise of humanitarianism in the nineteenth century, reflected a growing commitment to a universally shared notion of human dignity. That assumption is fallacious. Those who have been mythologised as champions of humanity as constraint, including Henri Dunant and Francis Lieber, were products of their era. IHL’s ‘original sin’ was to only extend constraints of humanity to so-called civilised nations in their wars inter se. These same constraints were not intended to apply to indigenous and other colonised populations – those assumed to be ‘uncivilised’ – often referred to as such with the pejoratives ‘savages’ and/or ‘barbarians’. The exclusion of emergent constraints on the grounds of racism and colonialism is evident in the language of the early IHL treaties. It has taken many decades for the international community to overcome the exclusions of the legal protection of emergent IHL and some would argue that the tendency for exclusion is still evident in the dehumanising of the other in the Global War on Terror.

This chapter demonstrates that drone programs – the combination of legal narratives, shifts in military strategy, and technological change – bring about an anywhere war. Combat drones have been deployed against non-state actors extraterritorially, including on the territory of non-belligerent states, because of the presence on those territories of members of terrorist groups. To allow this, drone programs have involved the creation of concepts such as “outside areas of active hostilities” or “outside hot conflict zones.” These non-legal concepts posit that jus in bello applies wherever the belligerent is, including on the territory of a state where the hostilities are not taking place. This practice, accompanied with supportive legal and political rationales, has sparked a heated debate among scholars on the geographical scope of armed conflicts under the jus in bello. Departing from the normative discussion for or against a geographical limitation of conflicts, the chapter shows that there is no such a thing as a legal geographical limitation of conflicts in the law and that its absence is exploited by drone programs, whose technological features eventually create the prospect of an anywhere war taking place wherever the enemy is.

This chapter considers the wider implications of The Satanic Verses affair and the fatwa. It engages with Rushdie’s considerations of Islam, secularism, and the complexities of geopolitical leadership of the Muslim world. The chapter also explores the wider questions and implications of freedom of expression that have been raised in Europe especially at the time and structured Britain’s relationship with Iran between 1989 and 1998. The chapter examines Rushdie’s own responses to the fatwa, collected in the final sections in his essay collection Imaginary Homelands as well as considering responses from Muslim literary critics and writers, some of whom supported Rushdie, others who spoke out against him, to illuminate the wider public debates around freedom of expression, secularism, and faith, which have proved central to a consideration of Rushdie’s work.

The modern history of Saudi–Iranian relations (dating back to the formation of the Saudi state in 1932) can be characterized broadly into five distinct phases. The first is between 1932 and 1979, which is characterized by regional distrust yet a willingness for the two states to engage with each other. The second is the period after the revolution until three years after the end of the Iran–Iraq War – where a catastrophic earthquake provided an opportunity to reset relations – which was driven by existential concerns about the nature of political organization and competition over Islamic legitimacy. The ensuing period from 1991 to 2003 was one in which a burgeoning rapprochement began to unfold, driven by domestic factors across the Gulf. The fourth period ran roughly from 2003 to 2011, in which the bombastic nationalism of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the Iranian president (2005–13) ran up against the belligerent ‘Axis of Evil’ narrative within the US War on Terror. The fifth period emerged after the Arab Uprisings in 2011, providing the two states with opportunities to exert influence across the Middle East through the provision of support to groups across the region. The events of the Arab Uprisings provided further opportunities to increase their influence, particularly in those states where regime-society relations began to fragment. In this chapter I offer a brief genealogy of relations between Saudi Arabia and Iran with a focus on the construction of competing nomoi – visions of regional order – which play out across the transnational field and resonate within states.

Over the past few decades, it has become increasingly difficult for major powers to translate battlefield victories into favourable political outcomes. As a result, US military engagements in the Middle East, Russian engagements in its “near abroad” and in Syria, French engagements in sub-Saharan Africa, and the African Union’s war in Somalia have turned into protracted missions with little prospect of decisive victory. This chapter examines the phenomenon of “endless war,” asking why it has become so difficult to bring wars to an end and what can be done about it. It shows that the problem is global, rooted in the changing nature, purposes, and attitudes of war. As wars become less about resolving disputes between states and more about the internal composition of states, and as those contests become ever more internationalized, the capacity of actors to sustain war have increased while incentives to pursue peace have declined. The first part examines the “endless war” thesis that grounds the problem in US liberal hegemony. The second part offers a brief explanation of factors that extend a war’s duration and inhibit peace. The third discusses how these issues might be addressed.

This chapter recounts the cascade of problems that threated international liberalism and the Washington Consensus during the first part of the twenty-first century. The Global War on Terror launched under US leadership, the global financial crisis and the ensuring Great Recession, and the promise and dashed hopes of the Arab Spring all exposed the failure of the liberal internationalist system and the expanded international organizations to fulfill the hopes of the 1990s.

The Cold War heightened the perception of threat in the United States and among Latin American elites, from the Soviet Union but also other socialist states. When the Cold War ended, Latin America began expanding and deepening its economic and political connections with more parts of the world than it ever had before. Economic restructuring after the debt crisis had already oriented Latin American economies to export globally, and the number and variety of trading partners multiplied. The Cold War had been a “bipolar” international environment, where two large powers (the United States and the Soviet Union) were locked in ideological conflict, which in turn pulled in other countries, voluntarily or not. As seen in previous chapters, the U.S. judged Latin American governments by their response to that ideological struggle. The end of the Cold War meant a return to a “multipolar” environment with no major single conflict, which opened up the world to Latin American governments. This chapter explores contemporary relations between Latin America and China, Russia, Japan, Europe, and Iran.