Last week’s attack at the Boston Marathon, like the attempted car bombing of Times Square almost three years ago, shows that the line between local conflicts and global ones has become thinner. Faisal Shahzad, the would-be terrorist in 2010, had legally lived in the United States for seven years and had earned citizenship the year before hatching his plot. He would later say that he was inspired to carry out the attack by the radical Yemeni cleric Anwar al-Awlaki, but the United States discovered that the plot had, in fact, been organized and possibly financed by an extremist group called the Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), which usually targets the Pakistani state and military. The organization’s attempt to strike in the United States showed that its own distinction between the near and far enemy had become increasingly blurred.
Like Shahzad, the Boston suspects were in the United States legally. In some accounts, the older of the two brothers, Tamerlan Tsarnaev, developed radical ideas in the United States before traveling to Dagestan to visit family. In other accounts, he got his training abroad. None of the stories has a definitive answer for whether his underlying complaint was religious, political, or ethnic. It might, in fact, have been a combination of all three. There is no shortage of grievances that a young Chechen might have, nor of groups willing to exploit them. Organizations of Chechen separatists, which are largely Muslim, have fought against the Russian Federation since the end of the Cold War. The Caucasus Emirate, the largest group, denied any involvement in the bombing. Meanwhile, al Qaeda has often referenced Central Asia as an important theater for jihad. By most accounts, moreover, there were Chechens training in al Qaeda camps during the 1990s.
The United States has mostly focused on the terrorism challenge as it relates to al Qaeda, but that group is only one in a world marked by increasing sectarianism and in which diaspora communities can develop much closer connections to