The Mind of a Terrorist Page 7

  “And the rest of the movie is coming. Should I write that?”

  “Tell them this is a small dose. Let them sit and watch what we do next.”

  5

  BURN DENMARK DOWN

  Lahore, Pakistan

  Early December 2008

  Sajid Mir appeared tired.

  There had been some rough days, and he had barely slept at all in the sixty hours of the attack in Mumbai.

  He embraced Headley. It was really a success. The two men had done it together.

  It was difficult to grasp, despite the evidence being everywhere. If Sajid or Headley were to open a newspaper, turn on the radio or TV, or go online, or if they were to go out on the street in Lahore and strike up a conversation with the first man they saw, they’d hear that it was true. Everyone was talking about the attack in Mumbai. How much India deserved it—or didn’t deserve it. How masterfully it had been executed. How arbitrary the killings had been.

  Government leaders and intelligence services in the Western world had suddenly met a new enemy in the last few days, and Lashkar had proven that attacks of such a magnitude were absolutely possible. In just a few hours, Lashkar-e-Taiba had gone from being an almost unheard-of regional terrorist group to having the entire world’s attention and being the object of its fear.

  In the West, the attack was described as barbaric. Outgoing president George W. Bush called the Mumbai killings “an assault on human dignity.” This served only to prove to the men that what they had done was right.

  Sajid Mir sat himself down on a chair in Headley’s house in Lahore and spoke of the days and nights in Karachi when he had coordinated the operation from the control room filled with cell phones, TV screens, and laptops. He told about the powerful bombs the ten young men had hidden in random taxis. This had caused the Indian special forces to believe that the attack was much more widespread than it actually turned out to be, and their response was therefore further weakened and chaotic.

  He recounted how two of the terrorists had fooled the authorities into thinking that they numbered at least seven by rushing around one of the hotels and shooting out of various windows.

  It had only been a week since the attack, and some details had yet to be revealed. The precise death toll, for example, was still uncertain, though official numbers were around 170. Sajid Mir was convinced that the numbers were at least twice that. Maybe 400, maybe 500.

  Sajid Mir mistakenly believed that Ismail and not Kasab had survived and been captured. But regardless of who it was, that was the only error—that one of the men did not end up a martyr and could now reveal far too many details about Lashkar and the plans.

  Both Headley and Sajid Mir were convinced that the Indians would torture the survivor until he had spilled his entire life story, from his birth to Mumbai, several times.

  Pakistan continued to disavow them. No, the ten men couldn’t possibly have come from Pakistan, said the official explanation, which denounced the Indians’ statements of blame as “madness.” And no, there hadn’t been any control room in Karachi or in any other location in Pakistan.

  None of the men behind the scenes was arrested.

  That was fantastic, Headley and Sajid Mir agreed.

  Headley’s house in Lahore was hidden behind a high wall. Which, in many ways, was very convenient.

  It had been his father’s home originally, and Headley had slowly taken it over, with all its furnishings and the servant and handyman, who lived in a small extension and kept the house’s nine or ten bedrooms and five bathrooms in working order.

  This wasn’t the first time Sajid Mir had been in the house.

  Some months earlier, in October 2008, the men of Lashkar had begun to think about what would happen after Mumbai. Once hell had been visited on India, it would be taken to a new country, a new target.

  At that time, a small, tight-knit circle met in safety behind the walls: Headley, Sajid Mir, and Iqbal. Together, they would comprise the new team. The nearly invisible planner, the terrorist leader of Lashkar, and the man from the Pakistani intelligence agency.

  Lashkar had a number of big plans, but slowly an agreement was reached on a target in Europe. For Lashkar, involving itself in global jihad in this way was not without risk. But with Mumbai, they had opened a door, and there was no reason to close it again.

  London, Madrid, and several other large European cities had experienced the bombs and blood of Islamic terrorism in the past year, but one country had miraculously managed to escape, and that was both incomprehensible and unforgivable. None of the men could understand why the country hadn’t been struck by a terrorist attack. Especially because it seemed like such a perfect target.

  It was Sajid Mir who named it.

  “Denmark,” he said.

  The men were in agreement.

  The idea for the cartoons of the prophet Muhammad came about almost by accident. But it wasn’t random.

  In November 2004, the controversial Dutch director Theo van Gogh was shot while biking to work early one Tuesday morning. He had tried to go to the other side of the road, but the shooter—a young Islamist of Moroccan background—followed him.

  “Have mercy, have mercy! Can’t we talk about this?” Theo van Gogh had said before the man stabbed him several times with a knife and attempted to decapitate him. The young Moroccan left a manifesto attached to van Gogh’s body, which contained threats against the West, Jews, and Ayaan Hirsi Ali, with whom van Gogh had made Submission, a film critical of Islam. The man then fled the scene. He was later arrested, tried, and convicted.

  In Denmark, comedian Frank Hvam said in an interview in the newspaper Information, on September 7, 2005, that the murder of Theo van Gogh had inspired him to reflect on how he made fun of taboos on the TV comedy series Clown: “After the murder of Dutch director Theo van Gogh, it hit me one night that I honestly didn’t dare to piss on the Qur’an on camera. That made me incredibly angry. I can’t imagine what sort of scene that would be a part of, but the thought that I didn’t dare to do it got me worked up a little,” said Frank Hvam toward the end of the one-hour interview.

  He added that he certainly would dare to “piss” on the Bible, but “there’s not really any challenge in that, since the fundamentalist Christians are already on the ropes. It’s much more of a challenge to go for the fundamentalist Muslims, because some of the more extreme elements are so rabid and aggressive. There’s a certain indignation in not being able to say what you want that gets to me. I kind of want to goad them a bit. It’s the prankster in me coming out. You’ve got to respect other people’s beliefs, but that’s also why you have to really question the way they live.”

  On September 16, author Kåre Bluitgen told the Danish national news agency Ritzay that he couldn’t get an illustrator to draw and sign a series of drawings of Muhammad for his children’s book about the Qur’an and the life of the prophet Muhammad and instead had to use the work of an anonymous artist in order to publish the book. The refusals came on the grounds of the van Gogh murder and another incident that had occurred not long before that one: on October 5, 2004, a professor at the Carsten Niebuhr Institute in Copenhagen was attacked and beaten by three young Arab-looking men. The apparent crime of the internationally-known professor was having read aloud from the Qur’an to non-Muslims during a lecture at the institute. The attack received wide press coverage.

  These events and the public debate about the tension between fear, freedom of expression, and the demands of religious groups that their beliefs be protected against attack led to an idea at an editorial meeting at the Danish newspaper Jyllands-Posten in September 2005.

  “What’ll happen if we write to all the members of Danske Bladtegnere* and ask them to create a drawing of Muhammad?” asked a journalist. The idea was rejected at first but later given a new lease on life.

  In his years as a correspondent in Russia, culture editor Flemming Rose had seen with his own eyes what happened when freedom of expression was restricte
d or bent for various reasons, religious or otherwise. He sat down and wrote letters to forty Danish illustrators, inviting all of them to draw Muhammad in whatever way they saw him.

  “We are writing to you after this past week’s public debate about the depiction of the prophet Muhammad and freedom of expression in connection with a children’s book by Kåre Bluitgen, for which several illustrators apparently declined to draw Muhammad, fearing the possible consequences. The morning paper Jyllands-Posten stands on the side of freedom of expression. We would therefore like to invite you to draw Muhammad as you see him. The result will be published in the newspaper this coming weekend,” wrote Rose in the letter.

  Rose addressed the envelopes himself and biked past a post box on the way home from work. It was also Rose who penned the words that accompanied the drawings in Jyllands-Posten when they were printed on page three in the weekend section, on Friday, September 30, 2005.

  Under the headline MUHAMMAD’S FACE, Rose spoke about both the incident with Bluitgen’s drawings and Frank Hvam’s worries. He also wrote that an art museum had removed a work, fearing Muslims’ reaction to it, and named other examples of what Rose saw as self-censorship.

  “The examples cited are reason for concern, regardless of whether or not the fear they experienced arose on false grounds,” wrote Rose, who felt that the artists, authors, illustrators, translators, and actors and directors were giving a “wide berth” to the meeting of cultures between Islam and the West.

  “Modern, secular society is rejected by some Muslims. They are demanding special status when they insist that their own religious feelings be taken into particular consideration. This is unreconcilable with secular democracy and freedom of expression, where one must be prepared to be the subject of mockery and scorn. It’s certainly not always nice to see, and it doesn’t mean that religious sentiments must be made fun of at any expense, but it is secondary in this context,” wrote Flemming Rose in the text.

  There were twelve very different drawings. Jyllands-Posten published every one they received. Even despite the fact that some of them made fun of the whole idea of the cartoons.

  One of the drawings depicted a fictional young man by the name of Muhammed in seventh grade at a local school in Denmark. He was drawn with a soccer jersey from Frem Soccer Club with the word Fremtiden, the Danish word for “the future,” written on it. In his right hand, he was holding a stick pointing at a board in the background, on which was written, “Jyllands-Posten’s editors are a bunch of reactionary provocateurs” in Persian.

  Jyllands-Posten didn’t have the text translated before the drawings were printed.

  Another drawing showed Kåre Bluitgen with “PR-stunt” written on his forehead.

  Even though it wasn’t the cartoon printed on the front page of the paper that day, it was Kurt Westergaard’s drawing of a full-bearded, bulging-eyed Muhammad with a bomb in his turban that received the most attention.

  Westergaard has since explained that the drawing could be interpreted as the terrorists’ unreasonable taking of Islam and the prophet Muhammad hostage, but the illustration was understood that way neither in Pakistan nor in the rest of the Muslim world.

  The context, too, was likely a key factor. Thirteen days earlier, September 17, Information had replaced their front page with an illustration of Muhammad riding a white camel, reprinted from Kåre Bluitgen’s book. Nobody had protested it. But now, several Muslim organizations in Denmark were demanding that Jyllands-Posten repudiate the illustrations and apologize.

  Chief editor Carsten Juste said that he “wouldn’t dream of” doing such a thing. Instead, the paper hired security guards, while the artists and Flemming Rose received death threats. Several of them decided to lay low for a while.

  The illustrations and criticism took on a life of their own. A group of Danish imams traveled to the Middle East and attempted to convince Arab leaders to put more pressure on Denmark. This served only to fan the flames. Several of the imams later regretted the trip, but it was too late. The damage was already done.

  Before long, the Danish embassies in Syria, Lebanon, and Iran were set on fire, and several people were killed during protests against Jyllands-Posten, Denmark, and other countries in which some newspapers had published one or more of the controversial illustrations.

  Osama bin Laden demanded that the artists be extradited to face “prosecution and sentencing” by al-Qaeda. The Danish government rejected these demands.

  In February 2008, plans to murder Kurt Westergaard were discovered, and the following day, seventeen Danish papers—among them Politiken, Ekstra Bladet, Berlingske, BT, Information, and Jyllands-Posten—published the controversial drawings again.

  In a five-minute audio recording, released one month later, Osama bin Laden threatened all of Europe with “a response” after various European newspapers also reprinted the drawings in a sort of show of solidarity.

  “This talk of mine is addressed to you and concerns the insulting drawings and your negligence in spite of the opportunity given you to take the necessary measures to prevent their being republished.

  “To begin with, I tell you: hostility between human beings is very old, but the intelligent ones among nations in all eras have been keen to observe the etiquettes of dispute and the rules of fighting.

  “This is best for them, as conflict is ever changing and war has its vicissitudes.

  “However, you, in your conflict with us, have in practice abandoned many of the rules of fighting, even if you hold aloft their slogans in theory.

  “How it saddens us that you target our villages with your bombing: those modest mud villages that have collapsed onto our women and children.

  “You do that intentionally, and I am witness to that.

  “Although our tragedy when you killed of our women and children was very great, it paled when you passed all bounds in your unbelief and freed yourselves of the etiquettes of dispute and fighting, and went so far as to publish these insulting drawings. This is the greater and more serious tragedy, and the reckoning for it will be more severe,” said bin Laden.

  The terrorist leader claimed that the world’s 1.5 billion Muslims would never even imagine drawing Jesus in such a derogatory manner. All prophets were promised the same protection, and the manmade rules of freedom of expression were “null and void, aren’t sacred, and don’t matter to us,” if they contradicted the rules God had given men, with instructions that they be followed to the letter.

  “In closing, I tell you: if there is no check on the freedom of your words, then let your hearts be open to the freedom of our actions. And it is amazing that you talk about tolerance and peace at a time when your soldiers perpetrate murder against even the weak and oppressed in our countries. Then came your publication of these drawings, which happened in the context of a new Crusade in which the Pope of the Vatican has played a large, extensive role.

  “And all of that is confirmation on your part of the continuation of the way as well as a testing of the Muslims in their religion: is the Messenger—peace and blessings of Allah be upon him—more beloved to them than themselves and their wealth? The answer is what you see, not what you hear, and may our mothers be bereaved of us if we fail to help the Messenger of Allah—peace and blessings of Allah be upon him. And peace be upon he who follows the guidance.”

  In Pakistan, thousands of protesters took to the streets.

  “Allahu akbar,” they yelled, in protest of the Muhammad drawings. They burned Danish flags and made signs encouraging people to boycott Danish products like milk and butter.

  Headley agreed completely. The drawings were a disgrace. In an email to a friend, Headley wrote that some things ought to remain inviolate until the end of time.

  “Everything is not a joke,” wrote Headley, and added that Islam wasn’t some sort of American entertainment program.

  “Making fun of Islam is making fun of Rasoolallah, SAW* who delivered it to us. And call me old fashioned, but I feel dis
posed toward violence for the offending parties, be they Cartoonists from Denmark or Sherry Jones or Irshad Manji,” wrote Headley.†

  Headley made fun of his friend for even taking the Danish artists seriously.

  “Would you invite these folks for tea and have a little discussion while you are roasting marshmallows?”

  The great Muslim men of times gone by would have reacted differently, said Headley.

  “They never started debates with folks who slandered our Prophet. They took violent action,” wrote Headley.

  That was what you ought to do, Headley suggested. And even if God might not want to give Headley the chance to “give us the opportunity to bring our intentions to fruition,” come Judgment Day, he would be rewarded for at least having had the thought and the will, wrote Headley.

  In the beginning of November 2008, a few weeks before the Mumbai attack, Headley traveled to Karachi and checked into the local Marriott Hotel. The city was full of young protesters yelling “Death to the Muhammad illustrators.”

  At a McDonald’s in Karachi, he met with Sajid Mir.

  Mir gave Headley a USB drive filled with information about Denmark, gathered from various sites on the Internet. There was basic data about the country—like the Danish GDP and a map of Copenhagen. There were news articles about the Muhammad drawings. And there were photographs of cartoonist Kurt Westergaard and the editor Flemming Rose, whom he treated as the men behind the grand plot against Muslims.

  Rose was likely Jewish, explained Sajid Mir. That was just one more reason to attack him.

  Sajid Mir gave Headley the responsibility for the mission.

  Take these three thousand euros, travel to Denmark, have a look around, use your eyes, find targets, find a way into the building, said Sajid.

  Sajid Mir gave Headley the freedom to improvise—including if he saw another possible target besides the newspaper or had some other idea that would cause significant damage in Denmark.