In Quebec City, when terror is not terrorism
The shooting of six worshippers at a mosque in Quebec City in January was lamented around the world as an act of terrorism perpetrated against Muslims.
Prime Minister Justin Trudeau decried the massacre as a terrorist attack. So did Quebec Premier Philippe Couillard and many others, from elected officials to ordinary folks.
The slayings seemed to fit popular notions of what constitutes terrorism in the eyes of reasonable people.
It seemed to satisfy a lay person’s reading of the Criminal Code of Canada, which defines terrorism as acts committed: “(A) in whole or in part for a political, religious or ideological purpose, objective or cause, and; (B) in whole or in part with the intention of intimidating the public, or a segment of the public, with regard to its security.”
And the Muslim community of Quebec City has certainly said it feels terrorized by the slayings of six brothers, fathers, sons and friends in their sacred space. But prosecutors have decided this terrifying incident is not terrorism.
The Crown announced Monday in Quebec City that Alexandre Bissonnette, the 27-year-old man accused in the shooting deaths, will not face terrorism charges when he eventually goes to trial before a judge and jury.
This is one of those decisions that may be perhaps perfectly comprehensible to legal scholars, but feels entirely inadequate to the public at large, if not like a full-blown outrage.
Legal experts may say that labelling the shooting at the mosque terrorism won’t make any real difference at the end of the day. A conviction on six murder counts would yield the maximum sentence all on its own. And besides, proving a terrorist mindset beyond a reasonable doubt would be awfully difficult.
We can twist ourselves into pretzels justifying the legal rationale for not laying terrorism charges in a society predicated on law and order. But it will still feel like a failure to put a proper name on painful events — to call an evil out for what it is so that we can come to terms with it, denounce it, and try to prevent anything so heinous from reoccurring.
The absence of terror charges in this case minimizes the gravity of what occurred at the Centre culturel islamique de Québec. That may not be prosecutors’ problem; they are tasked with evaluating each case on the merits of the evidence gathered, not satisfying public opinion or quenching a thirst for vengeance. But it feels like they went too far in divorcing the charges from the context in which the shooting occurred.
If the Criminal Code definition of a terrorist is so unwieldy as to be useless, then perhaps it needs to be retooled for the post-truth, fake news, extremist era. You don’t have to look far — hell, the last blood-soaked 48 hours are sadly sufficient — to see that terrorism can take many forms in 2017. It’s not always the stereotypical jihadi shouting Allahu Akhbar and detonating a suicide vest.
Terrorists can be lone wolves, or they can be members of shadowy cells. They can plant bombs or they can transform vehicles into weapons. They can kill and maim people indiscriminately or they can choose specific targets. They can be radicals burning with religious fervour or white nationalists brimming with hate. Or they can just be raving madmen infected with a warped viewpoint.
Of course we don’t want to stretch the definition of terrorism beyond all sense and meaning. But it can’t be so narrow as to exclude violence of this magnitude that seems designed to expose the fault lines in an increasingly divided society.
Does this courtroom technicality mean we can no longer refer to this tragic event as a terror attack — as our prime minister and premier have? What do we call this bloodbath then?
How do we wrap our heads around the fact that so many people in Canada who have allegedly plotted terror but never acted out have been put on trial for terrorism-related offences, but a person who stands accused of killing Muslims during evening prayers is not?
As long as some connection to Islam can be found, there is rarely a hesitation to call violence terrorism. Frequently it is warranted, but the reverse scenario always prompts much hand-wringing.
We had no trouble applying this label to Michael Zehaf-Bibeau or Martin Couture-Rouleau. They were purportedly acting in the name of Islam even though they may also have suffered from
It’s not always the stereotypical jihadi shouting Allahu Akhbar and detonating a suicide vest.
mental illnesses when they killed soldiers in separate incidents. Of course their deaths spared us having to dissect the extent to which ideology prompted their actions.
But if the alleged perpetrator in Quebec City had been a Muslim and the victims were Christians or secular, I sincerely doubt we would even be having this debate.
This isn’t the first time prosecutors have shied away from laying terror charges in a case where they might have been warranted against a suspect who was white. After Justin Bourque pleaded guilty and was sentenced to a landmark 75 years in prison for killing three RCMP officers and injuring two others in Moncton, police revealed they had actually considered terror charges because of his anti-government outburst. But they felt the evidence didn’t meet the burden of proof.
If that episode fuelled concerns about a double standard, the Quebec City case only raises more troubling questions.
This is the kind of conundrum that undermines faith in the justice system and legitimizes complaints that not all victims are treated equally in the eyes of the law. It fans the flames of suspicion among many Muslims that our society is rife with Islamophobia. Worse, it plays into the hands of xenophobes who seek to downplay the dangers of their hateful worldview.