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 GOVERNANCE,
DEVELOPMENT, AND SOCIAL
INCLUSION IN LATIN AMERICA
Series Editors: Rebecka Villanueva Ulfgard
and César Villanueva

ORGANIZED
CRIME,
FEAR AND
PEACEBUILDING
IN MEXICO

Mauricio Meschoulam
Governance, Development, and Social Inclusion
in Latin America

Series Editors
Rebecka Villanueva Ulfgard
Instituto Mora
Mexico City, Distrito Federal, Mexico

César Villanueva
Department of International Studies
Universidad Iberoamericana
Mexico City, Mexico
This series seeks to go beyond a traditional focus on the virtues of
intra-regional and inter-regional trade agreements, liberal economic pol-
icies, and a narrow security agenda in Latin America. Instead, titles deal
with a broad range of topics related to international cooperation, global
and regional governance, sustainable development and environmental
cooperation, internal displacement, and social inclusion in the context of
the Post-2015 Development Agenda—as well as their repercussions for
public policy across the region. Moreover, the series principally focuses
on new international cooperation dynamics such as South-South and
triangular cooperation, knowledge sharing as a current practice, and
the role of the private sector in financing international cooperation and
development in Latin America. The series also includes topics that fall
outside the traditional scope of studying cooperation and development,
in this case, (in)security and forced internal displacement, cultural coop-
eration, and Buen Vivir among indigenous peoples and farmers in Latin
America. Finally, this series welcomes titles which explore the tensions
and dialogue around how to manage the imbalance between state, mar-
kets, and society with a view to re-articulating cooperation and govern-
ance dynamics in the 21st century.

More information about this series at

http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/15135
 Mauricio Meschoulam

Organized
Crime, Fear and
Peacebuilding
in Mexico
Mauricio Meschoulam
Mexico Research Center for Peace
Universidad Iberoamericana
Mexico City, Mexico

Governance, Development, and Social Inclusion in Latin America

ISBN 978-3-319-94928-4 ISBN 978-3-319-94929-1 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-94929-1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018946547

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer
International Publishing AG, part of Springer Nature 2019
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the
Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights
of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction
on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and
retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology
now known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this
publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are
exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and
information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication.
Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied,
with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have
been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published
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Printed on acid-free paper

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Publishing AG part of Springer Nature
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
There are a number of people without whom I cannot understand the mere
concept of peacebuilding. My team at the Mexico Research Center for Peace
saves the world every day through its work. My three daughters and my son
remind me that peace happens every day, not on the other side of the planet,
but at home. And my wife is the compass that returns me to the north every
time I drift off. She is the eight and thousand pillars of peace I aspire one
day to become.
 Series Editors’ Preface

During the last few years, it is fair to say that the predominant image of
Mexico abroad is one of violence, and violence conducted by organized
crime or the drug-cartels, in particular.1 But often, foreign media seem
to be much less interested in asking questions about how it really feels
to lead a life in the midst of anxiety, fear, and insecurity. Peace seems
like a utopian dream, whereas the condition of peacelessness has become
everyday experience for millions of Mexicans. In fact, the year 2017 saw
the highest number of homicides in twenty years,2 and it can well be
argued that violence has come to dominate the public agenda.
In this timely and original work, Mauricio Meschoulam is taking us
through a series of separate, yet interconnected and to a certain extent
accumulative, studies of the social construction of fear and its psycho-
logical and social consequences for peoples’ perceptions of insecurity and

1See, for example, César Villanueva, “Imagen de México en el mundo 2006–2015”,

Universidad Iberoamericana, 2017, ISBN: 978-91-639-2258-9; Anabel Hernández

García, Narcoland: The Mexican Drug Lords And Their Godfathers, Editorial Verso, 2014;
Edgardo Buscaglia, Vaciós de poder en México: Cómo combatir la delincuencia organizada,
Debate, 2013. David Agren, “Mexico maelstrom: how the drug violence got so bad”, The
Guardian, December 26, 2017, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/dec/26/
mexico-maelstrom-how-the-drug-violence-got-so-bad.
2Eli Meixler, “With Over 29,000 Homicides, 2017 Was Mexico’s Most Violent Year

on Record”, TIME, January 22, 2018, http://time.com/5111972/mexico-murder-

rate-record-2017/.

vii
viii    Series Editors’ Preface

distress. Tying two fundamental aspects of peace: fear of violence and its
potential repercussions on Mexico’s social and democratic development,
this significant contribution by Meschoulam to the national and interna-
tional debate has its strength in pinpointing, through detailed empirical
analysis, how peacelessness is felt by many Mexicans, on the one hand,
and by critically examining the role of media for the construction of fear
regarding violence, and how it relates to the prospect for development
and public policies with the objective to foster social inclusion and build-
ing peace, on the other.
The reader will follow five qualitative/quantitative studies conducted
during the period 2011–2017, comprising hundereds of questionnaires
plus in-depth interviews with around 200 people from different parts of
Mexico (cities and countryside) and all social classes (informal workers,
officials, academics), ages (young people above 18 years of age, adults,
elderly people), and sectors (public officials, private employees), inquiring
about the psychological and social effects of violence in their everyday life.
An original take is precisely the cautious discussion around terrorism
understood in theoretical terms as well as concrete reality in relation
to the type of violence exercised by the drug-cartels. As Meschoulam
points out, it is not appropriate to equate Mexico’s drug-related violence
with terrorism, especially not the one most people have in mind today,
Islamic State or Al Qaeda, but rather practices and modes of exercising
violence systematically that bears resemblance to terrorist tactics (quasi-
terrorism). The symbolic aspect of violence becomes a key component of
the analysis in this book. For instance, the spread of fear through media
reporting about drug-cartels’ violent actions, which is of interest here,
can often lead members of society to experience post-traumatic stress
disorder (PTSD) symptoms, thereby extending the circle of victims far
beyond the immediately affected ones. Accordingly, this work includes
one chapter (Chapter 4 co-written with Dr. Jose Calderon-Abbo) draw-
ing on a study conducted in 2011–2012 examining precisely PTSD-
related symptoms among participants. This is a strong motivation of
Meschoulam: “to raise the issue of the ‘other’ victims of violence—its
psychological casualties in the wider population—and have it included on
the national agenda” (see Chapter 4 Abstract).
The theoretical-analytical framework draws on literature from differ-
ent disciplinary strands ranging from negative and positive peace, terror-
ism and violence, traditional mass media and new social media, to studies
in perceptions and victimization, among others. All the separate studies
 Series Editors’ Preface    ix

tie in with this framework in different ways, forming a complex mosaic of

intimate feelings of hundreds of Mexicans, but in reality they may count
in the thousands, if not million people, of fear of violence and state of
peacelessness.
The free flow of information and freedom of expression are a corner-
stone in modern, liberal democracies. Last year, Mexico was ranked as
the most dangerous country not being at war for journalists to exercise
their profession (Iraq and Syria faring worst).3 Violence against journal-
ists is present all over the country—and especially in those communities
or regions revealing the strong grip of drug-cartels on local communi-
ties or corruption ties between drug-cartels and politicians. The assassi-
nations of Miroslava Breach (March 2017) and Javier Valdez Cárdenas
(May 2017) provoked outrage in society, but there are way too many
voices being silenced… Since the year 2000, as many as 131 profes-
sional journalists have been executed in Mexico, and at least 52 vio-
lent attacks have been plotted against mass media compounds, since
2006.4 Impunity is the currency for many of these crimes. Thoughtfully,
Meschoulam problematizes the role of media as sources of information
(“news”) regarding drug-related violence, by asking significant ques-
tions: How can media be better at not exposing viewers/readers to
strong sentiments of fear, distress, and psychological shock? How can
media renegotiate their ethical principles on producing and disseminat-
ing information while they also operate under the market logic, but faced
with the growing need for taking serious actions to prevent society from
being exposed to negative news that may be conducive to PTSD symp-
toms and deepen the sense of powerlessness? How can a nation reformu-
late policies to facilitate the construction of peace, by engaging society
at large (and through media) in the recognition of its own failures in the
national security strategy? Drawing on testimonies and reflections ema-
nating from all the separate studies, Meschoulam makes a call for media
to adopt a more responsible approach in this regard.

3Elana Beiser, Committee to Protect Journalists, “In absence of fresh military conflict,

journalist killings decline again”, December 21, 2017, https://cpj.org/reports/2017/12/

journalists-killed-iraq-crossfire-murder-mexico.php.
4Pedro Zamora, “Impunidad en asesinatos de periodistas en México es de 90%:

CNDH”, Proceso, 2152, January 25, 2018, https://www.proceso.com.mx/520006/

impunidad-en-asesinatos-de-periodistas-en-mexico-es-de-90-cndh.
x    Series Editors’ Preface

This book must not be seen as a recollection of negative testimonies

of a broken nation, but as a forward-looking analysis of the possibili-
ties of changing the patterns of violence and resourcing to community
healing. By outlining public policy recommendations for building peace
and development, fostering social inclusion, and consolidating democ-
racy in the country, especially rooted in local and community activities,
Meschoulam provokes a debate beyond the gridlock mentality and shows
a sign of optimism, so necessary these days. As it may be obvious to the
reader, this analysis of the Mexican case can also be of interest for other
countries, especially in the Central American region (where the drug-
cartels have considerable influence in societies), but also Argentina,
Brazil, and Colombia, where the power of violence seems to dominate
the public agenda.
As a concluding remark, it is relevant to refer to Amartya Sen’s view
of violence in society and the possibilities of changing the situation,
via culture: “With suitable instigation, a fostered sense of identity with
one group of people can be made into a powerful weapon to brutal-
ize another…The art of constructing hatred takes the form of invoking
the magical power of some allegedly predominant identity that drowns
other affiliations, and in a conveniently bellicose form can also overpower
any human sympathy or natural kindness that we may normally have”.5
The editors of this series, along with the author, propose that under the
world of violence, what is really needed is a clear understanding of the
importance of peace in newly democratic countries. Thus, we also pro-
pose the recognition of the reasoned public voice, in consonance with
sound social policies, which in the best of the worlds may lead to free
societies from the ghost of violence.

Mexico City, Mexico Rebecka Villanueva Ulfgard

April 2018 César Villanueva

5Amartya Sen, Identity and Violence: The Illusion of Destiny (Issues of Our Time), W. W.

Norton, 2006, p. XV.

 Contents

1 Introduction 1
References 5

2 Terrorism and Fear: Their Impact on Social and

Democratic Development 7
2.1 Terrorism: Violence as a Vehicle for Communication 8
2.2 The Drivers of Terrorism 11
2.3 The Impact of Fear on Democratic Development,
Human Rights, and Inclusion 13
2.4 Multidirectional Effects 15
2.5 The Role of the Media 16
2.6 Conflict, Victimization, and Democratic Processes 18
References 23

3 Terror and Fear: The Mexican Case 29

3.1 The Evolution of Organized Crime and Violence
in Mexico Since 2006 30
3.2 Terrorism, Quasi-Terrorism, or Terrorist Tactics? 37
References 41

4 Violence and Its Psychosocial Effects in Mexico 45

4.1 Introduction 46
4.2 Background 47
4.3 The Nature of Our Research 48
xi
xii    Contents

4.4 Results 49
4.5 Trauma Caused by Learning About an Incident:
The First Signs of the Role of the Media 50
4.6 Other Results and Symptoms 51
4.7 Comparing Our Research and Other Studies
and Discussions 52
4.8 Conclusions and Initial Recommendations 54
References 57

5 Social Construction of Fear: The Role of Experience,

Observation, and Conversation 61
5.1 Qualitative Methodology 64
5.2 The Conceptual Framework 65
5.3 Phase 1: A Mexico City Neighborhood 67
5.4 Phase 2: Expanding the Study 69
5.5 Phases 1 and 2 Findings: Own Experience, Oral
Conversation, and Experiences of People Close to
Participants 70
5.6 The Fear Factor 76
5.7 Phase 3: Company X, A Business Run Differently 78
5.8 The Study at Company X 79
5.9 Results of the Company X Employee Study (Phase 3) 80
5.10 Low Variations Between the Company X Employee Study
(Phase 3) and the Other Studies (Phases 1 and 2) 82
5.11 Contrasting the Three Phases of Our Qualitative
Investigation 84
5.12 What Can Be Gleaned from the Accumulation of Results 86
References 89

6 Social Construction of Fear: The Role of the Media 93

6.1 Conceptual Framework: The Mass Media and
Peacebuilding 96
6.2 Phase 4: Methodology and Sampling 99
6.3 Results 100
6.4 What Distanced Participants from the Media 101
6.5 What Attracted Participants to Certain Mass Media? 104
6.6 Social Media 106
 Contents    xiii

6.7 Connecting the Four Phases of the Qualitative

Investigation and the PTSD Study 108
6.8 Fear, Peacebuilding, and Democratic Development:
What the Findings Say? 109
References 111

7 Public Policy Proposals and General Recommendations 115

7.1 Delving Further into the Research 116
7.2 General Recommendations: Valuing the Importance
of Local Measures 118
7.3 Recommendations Related to Mass Media 124
References 129

8 Summary and Conclusions 131

References 133

Bibliography 135

Index 151
 List of Tables

Table 5.1 The ten most frequently mentioned themes

(Total participants = 80) 76
Table 5.2 Four themes most frequently mentioned by the 15
participants in Phase 1 85
Table 5.3 Four themes most frequently mentioned by the 65
participants in Phase 2 85
Table 5.4 Five themes most frequently mentioned by the 25
Company X employees interviewed in Phase 3 86
Table 6.1 The ten themes most frequently mentioned in Phase 4
(Total participants = 80) 101

xv
 CHAPTER 1

Introduction

Abstract In this chapter, Meschoulam explains why peace is not only

the absence of violence and how the subject should be assessed from its
positive angle as well, i.e., not only what peace is not, but what peace
is composed of. Meschoulam refers to the eight pillars of peace as they
are outlined by the Institute for Economics and Peace, and explains how
these concepts are related to the objective and subjective well-being of
citizens. The author notes that this book attempts to connect two central
aspects of peace: fear of violence and its potential repercussions on the
country’s social and democratic development.

Keywords Peace · Positive peace · Peacebuilding · Fear · Democracy

Mexico is not a country at peace. While this has been the case for many
years, the situation continues to deteriorate. According to the Global
Peace Index (Institute for Economics and Peace [IEP], 2017), Mexico
has not only gone down several notches on the scale, but peace levels
have declined consistently in the years leading up to the writing of this
book. Peace, however, is not merely the absence of violence (Alger,
1987; Galtung, 1985). In other words, we tend to define it by what
it is not and consider it merely the condition of being free of war and
violent conflict. We do not always appreciate, for example, the active
components of peace—the ones that create and help maintain peaceful

© The Author(s) 2019 1

M. Meschoulam, Organized Crime, Fear and Peacebuilding in Mexico,
Governance, Development, and Social Inclusion in Latin America,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-94929-1_1
2 M. MESCHOULAM

conditions. According to the IEP (2016), peace has a negative angle or

aspect, as well as a positive one. Negative peace—that which must not
exist, in order for a society to be considered at peace—is the absence
of violence as well as the absence of fear of violence. Positive peace, on
the other hand, is “the presence of attitudes, institutions and structures
that create and maintain peaceful societies” (IEP, 2016, p. 4). Research
conducted by the IEP has revealed eight key areas or indicators that are
present in the world’s most peaceful societies. Referred to as the eight
pillars of peace, or the DNA of peace, they are: “(a) A well-functioning
government; (b) Equitable distribution of resources; (c) Free flow of
information; (d) Good relations with neighbors; (e) High levels of
human capital; (f) Acceptance of the rights of others; (g) Low levels of
corruption, and (h) A sound business environment” (IEP, 2016, p. 52).
Research indicates that the most peaceful societies perform well in
most of these areas, while less peaceful ones display weaknesses in the
majority of them (IEP, 2016). Similar arguments have been put forward
by such authors as Alger (1987, 1990), Ekanola (2012), and Galtung
(1985), who explains that several conditions, both objective and subjec-
tive, must be met for a society to be deemed peaceful. Objective con-
ditions include physical safety, material prosperity, and social harmony,
while subjective ones are issues like the emotional well-being of the
members of the society in question.
Among other things, this means that the more fear experienced by
a group, the further it is from achieving peace. In addition, the reper-
cussions of this type of situation do not stop at violence and its psycho-
logical effects but have a tangible impact on other spheres, such as a
country’s prospects of democratic development and governance.
Starting off with these ideas and aided by research conducted
in Mexico by the Mexico Research Center for Peace (Centro de
Investigación para la Paz México, AC.; CIPMEX), this book attempts to
connect these two central aspects of peace: fear of violence and its poten-
tial repercussions on the country’s social and democratic development.
Part of the research and information contained herein has already
been published separately, but this is the first time it has been brought
together with a view to offering readers a more complete picture, one
that goes from components of the peace theory to terrorism and the
fear associated with criminal violence, while also encompassing personal
experiences, everyday conversations, and the role of the media con-
fronted with the violent circumstances that currently prevail in Mexico.
 1 INTRODUCTION 3

It concludes with public policy recommendations and suggestions aimed

at various sectors of society.
Chapter 2 begins with a brief discussion of the literature on terror-
ism and problematizes different definitions of this type of violence. The
intention is to determine the extent to which conditions of fear can
impact lack of peace (peacelessness) in a given society, with direct conse-
quences for democracy, inclusion, and governance. To this end, discus-
sion will focus on: (a) the connection between stress, fear, democracy,
and inclusion; (b) the connection between these conditions and obstacles
to respect for human rights; (c) the circles that encourage fear and lack
of democracy and development to breed and feed off one another, and
(d) the direct impact conflict, and specifically victimization, has on dem-
ocratic development and citizen participation.
Chapter 3 asks to what extent the situation in Mexico—where crim-
inal violence has been escalating since 2006—can be compared to that
of societies that come under frequent terrorist attacks. The crux of the
debate is whether or not certain events that have occurred in the coun-
try can be classed as terrorist or quasi-terrorist acts or whether they are
merely terrorist tactics being employed by criminal organizations. The
evolution of violence associated with such organizations in Mexico and
the use of strategies that aim not only to commit but also to publicize
this type of violence will be addressed here. Peripheral to this debate are
the psychosocial repercussions of organized crime suffered by the popu-
lation, which are precisely what tie this chapter in with the fourth.
Chapter 4 was co-written with Dr. José Calderón-Abbo, psychiatrist
and addictionologist, clinical faculty at Louisiana State University (LSU),
who specializes in stress and trauma and is based on a study conducted
by the research team he spearheaded in 2011–2012 and that the author
of the book belonged to. The study investigated symptoms suggestive
of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) among the Mexican population
due to violence associated with organized crime, which, unfortunately,
turned out to be substantial. Rather than academic journal publica-
tion, the aim of the study was to raise the issue of the “other” victims of
violence—its psychological casualties in the wider population—and have
it included on the national agenda. This chapter discusses the findings
and some of the recommendations the team made at the time to attempt
to mitigate the psychosocial effects that were detected.
Drawing on some of these findings and based on a conceptual frame-
work rooted in social constructivism, the author has joined CIPMEX in
4 M. MESCHOULAM

carrying out a series of qualitative studies that attempt to further under-

stand the social construction of perceptions and feelings associated with
criminal violence and the chances of peace for the future. That quali-
tative investigation had four phases. Phase 1 was conducted in 2013;
Phases 2 and 3 were conducted in 2014. The last phase was conducted
in 2016. Our research questions included the following: How did the
people who took part in these studies socially construct their percep-
tions of the violent circumstances that prevail in Mexico? What part
did their own experiences play in this social construct? How do every-
day conversations around the family dinner table, at work, and at school
influence their perceptions? To what extent do the books they read and
the communications and social media they are exposed to contribute to
this social construct? What conclusions have they reached about what
the country is undergoing, and how did they reach them? What do they
think are the chances of solving these problems and building peace for
the future, and what do they believe needs to happen to achieve this?
Chapter 5 discusses the findings of the three first phases of that inves-
tigation, which was based on in-depth interviews with subjects from
Mexico City and 15 states nationwide, including several regions with the
highest levels of violence at the time this book was being written. Above
all, the chapter strives to highlight the importance of this discussion in
drawing up more effective guidelines for the design and implementation
of public policy geared toward building peace and, in turn, furthering
the country’s democratic development.
One recurring observation made during these studies was that partic-
ipants tended to feel upset by what they constantly referred to as “The
Media”, as if it were one only and indivisible entity, and they tended
to distance themselves from traditional media sources. Given the high
correlation of symptoms suggestive of PTSD related to media expo-
sure among participants from our PTSD study, and the negative opin-
ion of the media that prevailed among the vast majority of participants
in the dozens of interviews conducted in the qualitative investigation,
the CIPMEX research team decided to dedicate the fourth phase of
the qualitative project to a more in-depth exploration of the role of the
media in the social construction of these perceptions and feelings, in an
attempt to answer such questions as the following:

• What did they mean by “The Media”? Which specific media sources
did they mostly refer to?
 1 INTRODUCTION 5

• Were there one or several media sources that were not perceived as
negatively as the others? Which ones and why?
• What was it that drew our subjects to certain media and caused
them to reject others?
• What made them angry or caused them to react negatively to spe-
cific media or journalists, and how were these sentiments socially
constructed?
• What role did social media play in this process?
• What, in their view, would a communications medium have to do to
be considered more reliable?
• What issues should it address, and how should it tackle them to
appeal more to the subject?
• Specifically, how should the media cover violence?

This brings us to Chapter 6, an analysis of the investigation fourth

phase’s findings.
Chapter 7 uses the findings outlined in the preceding chapters to pres-
ent future research suggestions, public policy recommendations, and
general proposals aimed at various sectors of society to reduce the impact
of fear and better contribute to a sense of peacefulness, particularly in
terms of personal experience, with emphasis on local and community
actions. While these recommendations were originally designed to be
applied in Mexico, they could very well be adapted to other societies that
find themselves in similar circumstances.
Chapter 8 summarizes the key points of the book. The chapter inte-
grates the literature review on peacebuilding, terrorism, and the increase
in criminal violence in Mexico with the empirical findings of the PTSD-
suggestive symptoms study, as well as the findings of the four phases of
our qualitative investigation. Finally, the chapter presents conclusions
gleaned from these findings.

References
Alger, C. F. (1987). A grassroots approach to life in peace self-determination in
overcoming peacelessness. Security Dialogue, 18(July), 375–391. https://doi.
org/10.1177/096701068701800315.
Alger, C. F. (1990). Grass-roots perspectives on global policies for development.
Journal of Peace Research, 27(May), 155–168. https://doi.org/10.1177/002
2343390027002005.
6 M. MESCHOULAM

Ekanola, A. B. (2012). The moral demand of peace on the global capitalist order.
A Journal of Social Justice, 18, 281–288.
Galtung, J. (1985). Twenty-five years of peace research: Ten challenges and
some responses. Journal of Peace Research, 22, 141–158. https://doi.
org/10.1177/002234338502200205.
Institute for Economics and Peace (IEP). (2016). Positive peace report. Retrieved
from http://economicsandpeace.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/09/Positive-
Peace-Report-2016.pdf.
Institute for Economics and Peace (IEP). (2017). Global peace index. Retrieved
from http://visionofhumanity.org/app/uploads/2017/06/GPI17-Report.
pdf.
 CHAPTER 2

Terrorism and Fear: Their Impact on Social

and Democratic Development

Abstract In this chapter, Meschoulam begins with a brief discussion

of the literature on terrorism and problematizes different definitions of
this type of violence. The intention of this chapter is to determine the
extent to which conditions of fear can impact lack of peace (peaceless-
ness) in a given society, with direct consequences for democracy, inclu-
sion, and governance. To this end, Meschoulam’s discussion focuses on:
(a) the connection between stress, fear, democracy, and inclusion; (b)
the connection between these conditions and obstacles to respect for
human rights; (c) the circles that encourage fear and lack of democracy
and development to breed and feed off one another; and (d) the direct
impact conflict, specifically victimization, has on democratic development
and citizen participation.

Keywords Terrorism · Fear · Victims · Victimization · Democracy

This chapter begins by addressing terrorism as a very specific form of

violence and then proceeds to explain the potential impact of fear on
a country’s democratic development, human rights, and inclusion. It
rounds off with a discussion on the impact of violence, concretely, on
victimization, with emphasis on its psychological casualties, who are
frequently forgotten or relegated to a back seat.

© The Author(s) 2019 7

M. Meschoulam, Organized Crime, Fear and Peacebuilding in Mexico,
Governance, Development, and Social Inclusion in Latin America,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-94929-1_2
8 M. MESCHOULAM

2.1  Terrorism: Violence as a Vehicle

for Communication

For a long time now, the only consensus on the definition of terrorism
has been that there is no one single definition. One of the greatest prob-
lems in attempting to define it is that it is such a politically charged term.
To brand someone a “terrorist” is to automatically place him or her on
the side of “evil”. Governments make decisions about how and when to
classify a certain group or organization as “terrorist”, only to remove the
label some years later under different circumstances. Often their deci-
sions are not based on the nature of this concrete expression of violence,
but on political agendas that lead them to categorize a given actor as a
terrorist or a given state as a supporter of terrorism, a decision that has
legal, political, military, and even economic implications (Cole, 2003,
2006; Heymann, 2001; Leone, 2003). Then, there are the political
actors who accuse other states of being terrorists because of the methods
they use to overcome their enemies (Levinson, 2008). Consequently, the
term terrorism has been misinterpreted as “any kind of extreme violence”
without distinction. And when a term no longer has clear boundaries, it
is no longer useful. That is why some prefer to stick to the legal defini-
tions of what constitutes this type of violence (e.g., Federal Bureau of
Investigation [FBI], 2007; Joint Chiefs of Staff Department of Defense
[DOD], 2010). But from an academic standpoint, this is very compli-
cated, because over and beyond what political actors or anti-terrorist
agencies decide to include in their definitions, the phenomenon exists, is
different from other types of violence, and needs to be fully understood
in order to get to its root cause.
The literature on the subject tends to highlight the multiple defini-
tions and characterizations of this type of violence. For example, some
authors mention the illegitimate or “extra-normal” nature of terror-
ist violence against civilians or “noncombatants” for political ends
(Laqueur, 1987), while Crenshaw (2000) and Hoffman (2004) say its
tactics can vary from kidnappings, torture of sequestered soldiers, and
attacks on government institutions to mass bombings. Pillar (2001),
however, states that terrorism has the following components: (1) pre-
meditation, (2) political motivation that includes social power, (3) the
targets of the violent act are noncombatants (including, but not limited
to civilians), (4) it may include the threat of violence, even if it is not
used, and (5) the perpetrator is not a state actor.
 2 TERRORISM AND FEAR: THEIR IMPACT … 9

Meanwhile, official bodies like the US Department of State define

terrorism as “Premeditated, politically motivated violence perpetrated
against noncombatant targets by subnational groups or clandestine state
agents” (Matusitz, 2013, p. 4). Likewise, the FBI defines it as “The
unlawful use of force and violence against persons or property to intim-
idate or coerce a government, the civilian population, or any segment
thereof, in furtherance of political or social objectives” (2007, p. 9). And
according to the US Department of Defense, it is “The unlawful use of
violence or threat of violence, often motivated by religious, political, or
other ideological beliefs, to instill fear and coerce governments or soci-
eties in pursuit of goals that are usually political” (Joint Chiefs of Staff
DOD, 2010, p. 241).
Others, like Hall, Norwood, Ursano, Fullerton, and Levinson (2002),
emphasize the real target of terrorist attacks, which is society at large.
The intense fear these attacks provoke is destabilizing, denying citizens
any sense of personal or collective safety. In other words, the target is
not the individual who dies, is wounded, or is directly affected, but “an
entire nation”. Along the same lines, Gerwehr and Hubbard (2007) say
that terrorism seeks an impact beyond its direct or immediate victims, to
intimidate what they call “a target audience”, a much broader popula-
tion than the one that is directly attacked. Sullivan and Bongar (2007)
employ a similar argument, stating that terrorism is a type of psycholog-
ical warfare in which the general population is the primary target. This
is because terrorist groups do not normally have the material capacity to
take on national security forces, so they attack the next best thing: the
collective mind of a society, inflicting harm where they can and causing
psychological trauma. The affected citizens then pressure their govern-
ments to meet the demands of the perpetrators.
In other words, the most common denominators that define terrorism
are related as much to political motivation as they are to the differentia-
tion of targets, victims, material, and psychological damage. In the words
of Crenshaw and LaFree:

The act of violence in itself communicates a political message to a watching

audience. Because terrorism aims to shock and surprise—and because the
number of followers its cause can muster is usually small—it typically tar-
gets victims who are unprepared and undefended. It is more symbolic than
materially consequential. (Crenshaw & LaFree, 2017, p. 17)
10 M. MESCHOULAM

That said, other authors have come up with broader definitions. Pries-
Shimshi (2005) extends it to include economic motivation, among
other elements:

Modern terrorism has political, national, ideological, religious, social

and economic motivations. These goals lead to the tactics of indiscrimi-
nate murder, as well as extortion, kidnapping, etc. to accomplish certain
aims. In order to achieve the desired political goal, the terrorist must first
achieve a vital intermediate goal, which is the creation of an irrational and
prolonged sense of anxiety among the target population. In most cases
the terrorists are not after the death of any particular person, but merely
wish to create fear and demoralization in a much broader population than
among those targeted in an attack. Through the target population, terror-
ists strive to pressure governments to surrender to their political demands.
(p. 1)

Likewise, the Institute for Economics and Peace, which bases its infor-
mation analyses on databases from the National Consortium for the
Study of Terrorism and Responses to Terrorism (START, 2017), also
concedes, for purposes of its definitions, that terrorists may have eco-
nomic motivations (IEP, 2017b).
We could carry on citing authors and agree that there is not one
single definition or we could do an exercise like the one Schmid and
Jongman (1988/2010) tried. Based on a very broad bibliography, they
determined how often certain words or terms were repeated in the liter-
ature. For example, (a) “violence” or “force” appears in 83.5% of defini-
tions, (b) “politics” in 65%, (c) “fear” or “emphasis on terror” in 51%,
(d) “threats” in 47%, (e) “psychological effects” in 41.5%, (f) “differenti-
ation between victims and targets” in 37%, (g) “planned”, “systematic”,
or “organized” action in 32%, and (h) “combat methods”, “strategy”,
and “tactics” in 30%.
To sum up, then, we could say that terrorism is a very specific type of
violence, one that is used against civilians or noncombatants as a means
of creating a state of shock, upheaval, or terror in third parties (indirect
victims) in order to convey a message or for purposes of vindication,
using terror as a vehicle. Terrorism is not violence that provokes terror,
but premeditated violence carried out to instill terror, the ultimate goal
being to modify the behavior, attitudes, and opinions of a society or seg-
ments thereof, and coerce actors such as leaders or decision-makers in
 2 TERRORISM AND FEAR: THEIR IMPACT … 11

order to attain certain objectives, which are normally of a political bent.

Those who employ this type of violence are generally subnational actors
who find it the most effective method in terms of their capacities and
goals (Mulaj, 2010). In keeping with the database most widely used to
gauge this type of violence (START, 2017), we will not get into a discus-
sion here on the use of tactics like these by state actors.
Consequently, the true dimensions of a terrorist attack cannot be
determined by the number of people targeted, the type of weapons used
or how sophisticated they are, the material damage or even the always
regrettable toll of lives, but its psychological impact, the amount of
media coverage it receives, the number of times the event is rebroadcast
on social media, and in turn, the magnitude of the panic unleashed, not
to mention the political, economic, social, and cultural repercussions on
the society targeted. Today, all it takes is a sawn-off shotgun, a knife,
or an SUV to capture the attention of the international media, change
behavior patterns, and thus produce considerable symbolic and political
effects.

2.2  The Drivers of Terrorism

There is not one, but many types of terrorism. The most recent data
available at the time this book went to press were the last edition of the
Global Terrorism Index (IEP, 2017b), according to which only 1% of
deaths caused by terrorism occur in OECD member countries. In con-
trast, the other 99% occur in countries engulfed in armed conflict or in
which state-perpetrated violence is very high—hence the need to dif-
ferentiate Paris, Brussels, London, and Barcelona from Syria, Iraq, and
Afghanistan, to mention a few examples.
In OECD member countries, the Institute for Economics and Peace
(IEP, 2015a) investigation shows a correlation between terrorism and
socioeconomic factors such as youth unemployment levels, trust of the
press and democracy, drug-related crimes, and attitudes to immigrants.
Olivier Roy (2017) attempts to find more specific answers using data-
bases containing information on thousands of jihadists who have either
executed attacks or been involved in plans to carry them out. The data-
bases also include thousands of combatants from dozens of countries
that ended up in the ranks of ISIS in Syria and Iraq. Roy found many
patterns among these militants. To mention a few: (a) 60% are sec-
ond-generation citizens (children of immigrants) of Western countries;
12 M. MESCHOULAM

25% are third-generation citizens (grandchildren of immigrants); (b) 25%

are Western converts to Islam; (c) most are young people who lead typi­
cal Western lifestyles (they go to nightclubs, drink alcohol, listen to rap,
play sports, etc.) and did not have any significant contact with religion
until the last years or months of their radicalization; (d) most experience
a “rebirth” of sorts that results in a change of behavior (they become
religious or start following the tenets of Islam, but only in the last phase
of their radicalization, meaning this is not generally a phenomenon that
“abounds” in mosques); and (e) 50% have criminal records for misdemea­
nors. The author then goes on to say that, according to the databases
consulted, 60% of jihadists in Europe are second-generation immigrants
that are not integrated either into their countries of origin or European
societies.
Even so, we could concur with Moghaddam (2007) that this kind
of violence is not motivated by the existence of material conditions of
poverty, marginalization, and exclusion itself, but by the potential terror-
ist’s perception of these conditions. This explains why not everyone from
immigrant communities living in poverty or who lacks access to opportu-
nities becomes a terrorist. That said, statistics indicate that these environ-
ments are the most fertile hunting ground for recruiters looking to swell
their organizations’ ranks by offering potential new members a way of
“giving their lives meaning”. For example, a study by Adida, Laitin, and
Valfort (2016) revealed that the probability of getting a job in France
was notably less if the applicant had an Arab surname, making this a fac-
tor that contributes to the perception that these communities are not
fully integrated into French society. More research of this type needs to
be conducted in order to come up with guidelines on how to address the
radicalization of individuals in places like Europe.
All this research, however, is not very useful unless we include the
global factor, given that, as mentioned previously, less than 3% of
attacks—that account for just 1% of deaths caused by terrorism—are
committed in Western countries (IEP, 2017a; START, 2017). In 2016,
ten countries accounted for 75% of terrorist attacks, only five of which
accounted for 75% of deaths caused by terrorism. So finding “pat-
terns” of terrorism in places where fewer attacks take place—Europe—
can help us better understand the phenomenon in these countries and
at times in others with similar societies, like Tunisia. But circumstances
are extremely different in places where attacks are a daily occurrence—
countries like Iraq, Syria, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Somalia, Yemen, and
 2 TERRORISM AND FEAR: THEIR IMPACT … 13

Libya, where large terrorist groups were headquartered at the time of

this writing. The situation there is nothing like it is in OECD member
states. In these countries, where 97% of terrorist attacks were commit-
ted in 2016, terrorist activities are associated with instability and conflict,
corruption, lack of respect for religious and human rights, the preva-
lence of organized crime networks and state-perpetrated violence, among
other factors (IEP, 2015a, 2016, 2017a).
All this brings us to the following issues: Collective fear is not just a
disruptor of peace in and of itself, but it intensifies with an increase in
other disruptive structural components of positive or structural peace
and, in turn, magnifies these components.

2.3  The Impact of Fear on Democratic Development,

Human Rights, and Inclusion
Research has shown that people under stress or living in a state of fear
tend to be less tolerant, more reactive, and more likely to exclude others
(Siegel, 2007; Wilson, 2004). It has been shown that exposure to terror
leads to a state of psychological anxiety that causes people to perceive the
group perpetrating the terror as a threat, which, in turn, fosters rejection
(Canetti-Nisim, Halperin, Sharvit, & Hobfoll, 2009). In other words,
the tension generated by fear creates a sense of threat that makes us
behave in ways that exclude others. Hirsch-Hoefler, Canetti, Rapaport,
and Hobfoll (2016) put it more succinctly: “Conflict will harden your
heart”. In their research, the authors say that exposure to terrorism and
political violence makes people less likely to support peace efforts. These
feelings can have an impact on everything from voting preferences to
political support for measures like border closings and collective pun-
ishment of certain religious or social groups, including, in some cases,
the desire to take violent reprisals on perceived “enemies” of these socie-
ties (Hanes & Machin, 2014). To cite an example, one person set fire to
the Islamic Center of Fort Pierce in Florida, where Omar Mateen, who
attacked a nightclub in Orlando in 2016, occasionally went to pray.
Statistics indicate that, as a result of the attacks in Europe and the USA
between 2015 and 2016 and the waves of immigrants in recent years, hate
crimes against American Muslims have risen to their highest levels since
the September 2001 attacks on New York and the Pentagon (Center for
the Study of Hate and Extremism, 2016). Other statistics show similar
spikes in the UK (Sharman & Jones, 2017), where the increase in crimes
14 M. MESCHOULAM

of this nature has been partially attributed to Brexit (the UK’s decision
to leave the European Union) and the anti-immigration campaign that
fueled the whole debate. But the fact remains that this is not just a phe-
nomenon in the UK; several parts of Europe have reported a similar
increase.
According to the Global Terrorism Index (IEP, 2015a), terrorism
produces 13 times fewer deaths than other types of murders. In fact,
according to Stewart (2017), statistically speaking, the chances of an
American dying in a terrorist attack in 2017 were one in 29 million. This
was corroborated by a study by Nowrasteh (2017) that covers a longer
period (1992–2017). During this period, says the author, the probability
of dying or being injured in a terrorist attack on American soil was 133
times lower than that of dying as a result of other types of intentional
violence. And yet a survey conducted in 2016 by Quinnipiac University
(2016) discovered that 79% of those interviewed thought it somewhat
or very probable there would be another terrorist attack, which was
consistent with the findings of CNN/ORC—71%—on the same dates
(Shepard, 2016). Those were the highest levels of terrorism-related anxi-
ety reported since 2001.
It is important to understand how these sentiments tie in with other
factors we will be discussing later on. The same Quinnipiac (2016) sur-
vey indicated that 53% of interviewees thought individual freedoms had
not been restricted enough and should be restricted further. It is no coin-
cidence that those who felt most vulnerable were the ones who said
they would vote for Donald Trump: 96% of these voters thought it was
(somewhat or very) probable there would be a terrorist attack in the near
future, compared to 64% of those who said they intended to vote for
Clinton.
Heightening this anxiety has been a narrative that claims “our bor-
ders are vulnerable”, that “Muslims” will take advantage of our slackness
or, on a different, but related note, that people with “lots of problems”
will cross “our borders” and bring these problems with them. “They’re
bringing drugs. They’re bringing crime. They’re rapists” (Gabbatt,
2015). The circle was completed in 2016 when the USA was depicted by
the man who was to become its president as a country plunged in chaos;
a country that was in danger because it had let down its guard. In fact,
it is a phenomenon that has been studied for some time now. Extremes
feed off one another. So it should come as no surprise that, according
to Brian Levin, director of the California State University Center for the
 2 TERRORISM AND FEAR: THEIR IMPACT … 15

Study of Hate and Extremism and author of the aforementioned study

(2016), hate crimes against Muslims soared in the wake of some of
Trump’s most incendiary speeches. And in an environment like this, it
is easier for terrorist organizations to find or draw potential new mem-
bers, thereby propagating the spiral. These factors are, in turn, related
to others. For instance, when citizens feel their safety threatened, soci-
eties are more likely to favor measures that impinge on their freedoms
in exchange for a promise of greater safety (Lewis, 2003; Pillar, 2001),
which would appear to corroborate the above-mentioned Quinnipiac
University survey (2016). Consequently, in the throes of heightened
mass hysteria, certain political actors may find a propitious environment
in which to promote measures that could be deemed obstacles to dem-
ocratic development and human rights. Moreover, it is highly probable
that measures like these enjoy widespread public support. Examples can
be found in the collective trials, arrests and mass punishments of Sisi’s
Egypt, the rise of authoritarianism in Erdogan’s Turkey in recent years
(Bekdil, 2017; Guercio, 2017), and the passing of the Patriot Act in
the USA after the 9/11 attacks, a situation that has been included in the
same debate (Brinkley, 2003; Leone, 2003). Likewise, even before the
peaks of terrorism between 2014 and 2016, it had been proven that hate
crimes tend to increase dramatically after events like terrorist attacks that
spark mass hysteria (Hanes & Machin, 2014).

2.4   Multidirectional Effects

The effects of the factors and variables discussed above are not unidi-
rectional but self-propagate in circles. For example, as already men-
tioned, collective fear and stress have a negative impact on democracy,
but a lack of democratic, social, and economic development is deemed
structural factors that contribute to peacelessness in and of themselves
(Alger, 1987; Galtung, 1985). Ultimately, this can lead to different types
of direct violence such as terrorism (IEP, 2015a) or violence associated
with organized crime (Cockayne & Lupel, 2009; Méndez & Berrueta,
2010; Pérez Zavala, 2010), which, in turn, generate fear. In other words,
the circles originate and spread out from different coordinates and are
impossible to break completely without addressing each of the fac-
tors that give rise to them. For instance, if we manage to reduce levels
of direct violence, but fail to build structural peace (strengthening of
institutions, equal distribution of wealth, strengthening of democratic
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 Fig. 128.—Terra-cotta statuette.
Actual size. British Museum.
Drawn by Saint-Elme Gautier.
It may be thought, perhaps with truth, that the sculptor has
overdone these details, and that his figures are, in some degree,
sacrificed to the decorations about them. Other examples from the
same series, give a higher idea of the sculpture of this time; we may
cite especially a fragment possessed by the Louvre, in which the
treatment is of the skilfullest (Plate X). It represents Assurbanipal in
his war-chariot at the head of his army. The chariot itself, and all the
accessories, such as the umbrella and the robes of the king and his
attendants, are treated with great care but they do not unduly attract
the eye of the spectator. We can enjoy, as a whole, the group formed
by the figures in the chariot, and those who march beside and
behind it. Its arrangement is clear and well balanced; there is no
crowding, the spacing of the figures is well judged and the
movement natural and suggestive. The king dominates the
composition as he should, and his umbrella happily gathers the lines
of the whole into a pyramid. In all this there is both knowledge and
taste.
 The best of the Assyrian terra-cottas also belong to this period.
The merit of their execution may be gathered from the annexed
statuette, which comes from the palace of Assurbanipal (Fig. 128).
From the staff in its hands it has been supposed to represent a king,
but we know that every Assyrian was in the habit of carrying a stick
with a more or less richly ornamented head, and here we find neither
a tiara nor the kind of necklace which the sovereign generally wore
(see Fig. 116). I am inclined to think it is the image of a priest.
In conclusion we may say that, in some respects, Assyrian
sculpture was in a state of progression when the fall of Nineveh
came to arrest its development and to destroy the hopes it inspired.

§ 7.—Polychromy.

We have now studied Mesopotamian sculpture in its favourite

themes, in its principal conventions, and in the fluctuations of its
taste and methods of work; we have yet to ask whether this
sculpture, which differed in so many ways from the plastic art of
Egypt, differed from it also in absence of colour. We have put off this
question until now, because we had first to determine what materials
the architect and sculptor employed, how they employed them, and
what part was played by figures in relief and in the round in the
architectonic creations of Chaldæa and Assyria.
In speaking of Egypt we have explained how a brilliant light
destroys the apparent modelling of objects, how, by the reflections it
casts into the shadows, it interferes with our power to distinguish one
distant plane from another.[273] In every country where a vertical sun
shines in an unclouded sky, the decorator has had to invoke the help
of colour against the violence of the light, has had to accept its aid in
strengthening his contours, and in making his figures and ornaments
stand out against their ground. In describing Egyptian polychromy
we said that we should find the same tendency among other nations,
different in character and origin, but subjected to the influence of
similar surroundings. We also allowed it to be seen that we should
have to notice many changes of fashion in this employment of
colour. Colour played a different and more important part in one
place or period than in another, and it is not always easy to specify
the causes of the difference. In the Egyptian monuments hardly a
square inch of surface can be found over which the painter has not
drawn his brush; elsewhere, in Greece for instance, we shall find him
more discreet, and his artificial tints restricted to certain well-defined
parts of a figure or building.
Did Assyria follow the teaching of Egypt, or did she strike out a
line of her own, and set an example of the reserve that was
afterwards to find favour in Greece? That is the question to be
answered. Before we can do so we must produce and compare the
evidence brought forward by Botta, Layard, Place and others, who
saw the Assyrian sculptures reappear in the light of day. Ever since
those sculptures were recovered they have been exposed to the air;
they have undergone all the handling and rubbing involved in a
voyage to Europe; and for the last twenty or thirty years they have
been subjected to the dampness of our climate. We need, then, feel
no surprise that traces of colour still visible when the pick-axe of the
explorer freed the alabaster slabs from their envelope of earth have
now disappeared.
Before examining our chief witnesses, the men who dug up
Khorsabad, and Nimroud, and Kouyundjik, we may, to some extent,
foretell their answers. We have already explained how the
Mesopotamian architect made use of colour to mask the poverty of
his construction and to furnish the great bare walls of his clay
buildings. Both inside and outside, the Assyrian palaces had the
upper parts of their walls and the archivolts of their doors decorated
with enamelled bricks or paintings in distemper. Is it to be supposed
that where the reliefs began all artificial tinting left off, and that the
eye had nothing but the dull grey of gypsum and limestone to
wander to from the rich dyes of the carpets with which the floors
were strewn? Nothing could well be more disagreeable than such a
contrast. In our own day, and over the whole of the vast continent
that stretches from China to Asia Minor, there is not a stuff, however
humble, that is woven on the loom or embroidered by the needle, but
betrays an instinctive feeling for harmony so true and subtle that
every artist wonders at it, and the most tasteful of our art workmen
despair of reaching its perfection, and yet many of these faultless
harmonies were conceived and realized in the tent of the nomad
shepherd. We can hardly believe that in the palace where official art
lavished all its resources in honour of its master, there could be any
part from which the gaiety that colour gives was entirely excluded,
especially if it was exactly the part to which the eye of every visitor
would be most surely attracted.
Before going into the question of evidence one might, therefore,
make up our minds that the Assyrian architect never allowed any
such element of failure to be introduced into his work; and the
excavations have made that conclusion certain. The Assyrian reliefs
were coloured, but they were not coloured all over like those of
Egypt; the grain of the stone did not disappear, from one end of the
frieze to the other, under a layer of painted stucco. Flandin, the
draughtsman attached to the expedition of M. Botta, alone speaks of
a coat of ochre spread over the bed of the relief and over the nude
portions of the figures;[274] he confesses, however, that the traces
were very slight and that they occurred only on a slab here and
there. Botta, who saw the same slabs, thought his colleague
mistaken.[275] Place is no less decided: “None of us,” he says, “could
find any traces of paint upon the undraped portions of the figures,
and it would be very extraordinary if among so many bare arms and
bare legs, to say nothing of faces, not one should have retained any
vestige of colour if they had all once been painted.”[276] We might be
inclined to ask whether the traces of pigment that have been noticed
here and there upon the alabaster might not have been the remains
of a more widespread coloration, the rest of which had disappeared.
Strong in his experience, Place thus answers any doubts that might
be expressed on this point: “We never found an ornament, a
weapon, a shoe or sandal, partially coloured; they were either
coloured all over or left bare, while objects in close proximity were
without any hue but their own. Sometimes eyes and eyebrows were
painted, while hair and beard were left untouched; sometimes the
tiara with which a figure was crowned or the fan it carried in its hand
was painted while the hand itself and the hair that curled about the
head showed not the slightest trace of such an operation; elsewhere
colour was only to be found on a baldrick, on sandals, or the fringes
of a robe.” Wherever these colours existed at all they were so fresh
and brilliant at the time of discovery that no one thought of explaining
their absence from certain parts of the work by the destruction of the
pigment. “How is it,” continues Place, “that, if robes were painted all
over, we only found colour on certain accessories, on fringes and
embroideries? How is it that if the winged bulls were coated in paint
from head to foot, not one of the deep grooves in their curled beards
and hair has preserved the slightest vestige of colour, while the white
and black of their eyes, which are salient rather than hollowed,
remain intact? Finally, we may mention the following purely
accidental, and therefore all the more significant, fact: a smudge of
black paint, some two feet long, was still clearly visible on the breast
of one of the colossi in the doorway of room 19.[277] How can we
account for the persistence of this smudge, which must have fallen
upon the monster’s breast while they were painting its hair, if we are
to suppose that the whole of its body was covered with a tint which
has disappeared and left no sign?”
Such evidence is decisive. The colouring of the Assyrian reliefs
must always have been partial. The sculptor employed the painter
merely to give a few strokes of the brush which, by the frankness
and vivacity of their accent, should bring the frieze into harmony with
the wall that enframed it. Nothing more was required to destroy the
dull monotony of the long band of stone. At the same time these
touches of colour helped to draw attention to certain details upon
which the sculptor wished to insist.
For all this, four colours were enough. Observers agree in saying
that black, white, red and blue made up the whole palette.[278] These
tints were everywhere employed pretty much in the same fashion.
[279]

In those figures in which drapery covered all but the head, the
latter was, of course, more important than ever. The artist therefore
set himself to work to increase its effect as much as he could. He
painted the eyeball white, the pupil and iris, the eyebrows, the hair
and the beard, black; sometimes the edges of the eyelids were
defined with the same colour. The band about the head of the king or
vizier is often coloured red, as well as the rosettes which in other
figures sometimes decorate the royal tiara. The same tint is used
upon fringes, baldricks, sandals, earrings, parasols and fly-flappers,
sceptres, the harness of horses and the ornamental studs or bosses
with which it was covered, and the points of weapons.[280] In some
instances blue is substituted for red in these details. Place speaks of
a fragment lost in the Tigris on which the colours were more brilliant
than usual; upon it the king held a fan of peacock’s feathers coloured
with the brightest mineral blue.[281]
When figures held a flower in their hands it was blue, and at
Khorsabad a bird on the wing was covered with the same tint.[282] In
some bas-reliefs red and blue alternate in the sandals of the figures
and harness of the horses.[283] We find a red bow with a blue quiver.
[284] The flames of towns taken and set on fire by the Assyrians were

coloured red in many of the Khorsabad reliefs.[285]

A few traces of colour may still be discovered upon some of
Sargon’s sculptures in the Louvre and upon those of Assurnazirpal in
the British Museum.[286] I could find no remains of colour either upon
the reliefs of Assurbanipal or upon those of Sennacherib, where,
moreover, Layard tells us he could discover none.[287]
It would be very strange however, if in these palaces of the last of
the Sargonids the decorator had deliberately renounced the beauties
of that discreet system of polychromy of which the traces are to be
found in all the earlier palaces. It is possible that these touches of
colour were reserved for the last when the palaces were erected,
and that something may have happened to prevent them from being
placed on the sculptures of these two sovereigns.
So far as we can discover, no trace of colour has been found on
any of the arched steles or isolated statues left to us by Chaldæa
and Assyria. This abstention is to be explained by the nature of the
materials at the disposal of the sculptor in Chaldæa, the cradle of his
art. These were chiefly igneous rocks, very hard, very close in grain
and dark in colour, and susceptible of a very high polish. The
existence of such a polish disposes of any idea that the figures to
which it was given were ever painted. The pigment would not have
stayed long on such a surface, and besides, the reds and blues
known to the Ninevite artists would have had a very poor effect on a
blue-black ground.
On the other hand, when they set to work to model in clay the
Assyrians could give free rein to their love for colour. Most of the
statuettes found in the ruins of their palaces had been covered with a
single uniform tint, which, thanks to the porous nature of the
material, is still in fair preservation. The tint varies between one
figure and another, and, as they are mostly figures of gods or
demons, the idea has been suggested that their colours are
emblematic.[288] Thus the Louvre possesses a statuette from
Khorsabad representing a god crowned with a double-horned tiara,
and covered all over, flesh and drapery alike, with an azure blue.[289]
A demon with the head of a carnivorous animal, from the same
place, is painted black, a colour that seems to suggest a malevolent
being walking in the night and dwelling in subterranean regions.[290]
The Assyrians also made use of what has been sometimes called
natural polychromy, that is to say they introduced different materials
into the composition of a single figure, each having a colour of its
own and being used to suggest a similar tint in the object
represented. Several fragments of this kind may be seen in the
cases of the British Museum.[291] We may give as examples some
eyes in black marble; the ball itself is ivory while the pupil and iris are
of blue paste, a sandy frit in which the colour sank deeply before
firing. Beards and hair were also made of this material; they have
been found in several instances, without the heads to which they
belonged. In the ruins from which he took these objects, Layard saw
arms, legs and torsos of wood. They were so completely carbonized
by fire that they could not be removed; at the least touch they
crumbled into powder.
With wood, with enamel and coloured earths, with stones, both
soft and hard, and metals both common, like bronze, and precious,
like gold and silver, the sculptor built up statues and statuettes in
which the peculiar beauty to be attained by the juxtaposition of such
heterogeneous materials, was steadily kept in view. With inferior
taste and less feeling for purity of form than the Greeks, this art was
identical in principal with the chryselephantine sculpture that created
the Olympian Zeus and the Athene of the Parthenon.
The idea that sculpture is the art in which form is treated to the
exclusion of colour is quite a modern one.[292] The sculptor of
Assyria was as ready to mix colour with his contours as his confrère
of Egypt, but he made use of it in more sober and reserved fashion.
How are we to explain the difference? It is easier to prove the fact
than to give a reason for it. It may be said that the sunlight is less
constant and less blinding in Mesopotamia than in the Nile valley,
and that the artist was not called upon to struggle with such
determination, by the profusion and brightness of his colours, against
the devouring illumination that impoverishes outlines and obliterates
modelling. We must also bear in mind the habits formed by work in
such materials as basalt and diorite, which did not lend themselves
kindly to the use of bright colours.
In any case the fact itself seems incontestable. We cannot say of
the Ninevite reliefs as we said of those of Thebes, that they
resembled a brilliant tapestry stretched over the flat wall-surfaces. If,
in most of the buildings, touches of paint freely placed upon the
accessories and even upon the figures and faces, lightened and
varied the general appearance of the sculptures, still the naked
stone was left to show all over the bed and over the greater part of
the figures. From this we must not conclude, however, that the
Assyrians and Chaldæans did not possess, and possess in a very
high degree, the love for bold and brilliant colour-schemes which
even now distinguishes their degenerate posterity, the races
inhabiting the Euphrates valley and the plateau of Iran. But they
gratified their innate and hereditary taste in a different way. It was to
their woven stuffs, to their paintings in distemper and their enamelled
faïence that the buildings of Mesopotamia owed that gaiety of
appearance which has led us to compare them with the mosques of
Turkey and Persia.
 § 8.—Gems.

“Every Babylonian had a seal,” says Herodotus;[293] this fact

seems to have struck him directly he began to explore the streets
and bazaars of the great oriental city. These seals, which appear to
have attracted the eye of the historian by the open manner in which
they were carried and the continual use made of them in every
transaction of life, public or private, are now in our museums. They
are to be found in hundreds in all the galleries and private collections
of Europe.[294]
When Chaldæan civilization became sufficiently advanced for
writing to be in widespread use and for every man to provide himself
with his own personal seal, no great search for convenient materials
was necessary. The rounded pebbles of the river beds gave all that
was wanted. The instinct for personal adornment is one of the
earliest felt by mankind, and just as the children of to-day search in
the shingle of a beach for stones more attractive than the rest, either
by their bright colours, or vivid markings or transparency of paste, so
also did the fathers of civilization. And when they had found such
stones they drilled holes through them and made them into earrings,
necklaces and bracelets. More than one set of pebble ornaments
has been preserved for us in the Chaldæan tombs. In many
instances forms sketched out by the accidents of nature have been
carried to completion by the hand of man (Fig. 129). They were not
long contented with thus turning a pebble into a jewel. The fancy
took them to engrave designs or figures upon them so as to give a
peculiar value to the single stone or to sets strung into a necklace,
which thus became a kind of amulet (Fig. 130).
In the first instance this engraving was nothing more than an
ornament. But one day it occurred to some possessor of such a
stone to take an impression upon plastic clay. Those who saw the
image thus obtained were struck by its precision, and were soon led
to make use of it for authenticating acts and transactions of every
kind. The presence of such an impression upon a document would
perpetuate the memory of the man who put it there, and would be
equivalent to what we call a sign manual.
 But even when it developed into a seal the engraved stone did
not lose its talismanic value. In order to preserve its quasi-magic
character, nothing more was required than the presence of a god
among the figures engraved upon it. By carrying upon his person the
image of the deity in which he placed his confidence, the Chaldæan
covered himself with his protection as with a shield, and something
of the same virtue passed into the impressions which the seal could
produce in such infinite numbers.
 Fig. 129.—River pebble
which has formed part of a
necklace.

Fig. 130.—River pebble engraved; from De

Gobineau.
No subject occurs more often on the cylinders than the celestial
gods triumphing over demons. Such an image when impressed upon
the soft clay would preserve sealed-up treasures from attempts
inspired by the infernal powers, and would interest the gods in the
maintenance of any contract to which it might be appended.[295]
To all this we must add that superstitions, of which traces subsist
in the East to this day, ascribed magic power to certain stones.
Hematite, for instance, as its name suggests, was supposed to stop
bleeding, while even the Greeks believed that a carnelian gave
courage to any one who wore it on his finger.
When engraving on hard stone was first attempted, it was, then,
less for the love of art than for the profit to be won by the magic
virtues and mysterious affinities, both of the material itself, and of the
image cut in its substance. Then, with the increase of material
comfort, and the development of social relations, came the desire of
every Chaldæan to possess a seal of his own, a signet that should
distinguish him from his contemporaries and be his own peculiar
property, the permanent symbol of his own person and will. So far as
we can tell, none but the lowest classes were without their seals;
these latter when they were parties or witnesses to a contract, were
contented with impressing their fingernails on the soft clay. Such
marks may be found on more than one terra-cotta document; they
answer to the cross with which our own uneducated classes supply
the place of a signature.
When the use of the seal became general, efforts were made to
add to its convenience. In order to get a good impression it was
necessary that the design should be cut on a fairly even and regular
surface. The river pebbles were mostly ovoid in form and could
easily be made cylindrical by friction, and the latter shape at last
became so universal that these little objects are always known as
cylinders. These cylinders were long neglected, but within the last
few years they have been the subject of some curious researches.
[296] They may be studied from two different points of view. We may
either give our attention to the inscriptions cut upon them and to their
general historical significance, or we may endeavour to learn what
they may have to teach as to the religious myths and beliefs of
Chaldæa. As for us we are interested in them chiefly as works of art.
It will be our duty to give some idea of the artistic value of the figures
they bear, and to describe the process by which the engraving was
carried out.
The cylinders are, as a rule, from two to three-fifths of an inch in
diameter, and from three quarters of an inch to an inch and a half in
length. Some are as much as an inch and three quarters, or even
two inches long, but they are quite exceptional.[297] The two ends
are always quite plain—the engraving is confined to the convex
surface. As a rule the latter is parallel to the axis, but in some cases
it is hollowed in such a fashion that the diameter of the cylinder is
greater at the ends than in the middle (Fig. 131).
Nearly every cylinder is pierced lengthwise, a narrow hole going
right through it. Those that have been found without this hole are so
very few in number that we may look upon them as unfinished. In
some cases the hole has been commenced at both ends, but the drill
has stopped short of the centre, which still remains solid.

Fig. 131.—Concave-faced
cylinder; from Soldi.

Fig. 132.—Cylinder with modern

mount; from Rawlinson.
The cylinders were suspended by these holes, but how? In
casting about for an answer to this question, the idea that the
Babylonian attached the greatest importance to the clear
reproduction, in the clay, of every detail of the design engraved upon
his seal, has been taken as a starting point, and a system of
mounting invented for him which would leave nothing to be desired
in that respect (see Fig. 132). It is a reproduction, in small, of a
garden roller; as a restoration, however, it can hardly be justified by
the evidence of the monuments. Examine the terra-cotta tablets on
which these seals were used, and you will see that their ancient
possessors did not, as a rule, attempt to impress the whole of the
scenes cut in them upon the soft clay. It is rare to find an impression
as sharp and complete as that on the tablet from Kouyundjik, which
we borrow from Layard (Fig. 133). In the great majority of cases
signatories were content with using only one side of their seals,
usually the side on which their names were engraved. Sometimes
when they wished to transfer the whole of their cylinder to the clay,
they did so by several partial and successive pressures.[298]
The imperfect stamp with which the Chaldæans were satisfied
could easily be produced without the help of such a complicated
contrivance as that shown in our Fig. 132. Nothing more was
necessary than to lay the cylinder upon the soft clay and press it with
the thumb and fore-finger. The hole through its centre was used not
to receive an armature upon which it might turn, but merely for
suspending it to some part of the dress or person. In most cases it
must have been hung by a simple cord passed round the neck. Now
and then, however, the remains of a metal mount have been found in
place, but this is never shaped like that shown above. It is a bronze
stem solidly attached to the cylinder, and with a ring at its upper
extremity (Fig. 134).[299] Cylinders are also found with a kind of ring
at one end cut in the material itself (Fig. 135).
How were these cylinders carried? They must have been
attached to the person or dress, both for the sake of the protecting
the image with which most of them were engraved, and for
convenience and readiness in use as seals. In Chaldæa the fashion
seems to have been, at one time, to fasten them to the wrist. In
those tombs at Warka and Mugheir that we have described, the
cylinders were found on the floors of the tomb-chambers, close to
the wrist-bones of the skeletons; and the latter had not been moved
since the bodies to which they had belonged were laid in the grave.
[300] This fashion was apparently abandoned by the Assyrians, for in
those reliefs which reproduce the smallest details of dress and
ornament with such elaboration, we can never find any trace of the
seal beside the bracelets. It is probable that it was hung round the
neck and put inside the dress, in front, for greater security. It never
occurs among the emblematic objects of which the necklace that
spreads over the chest outside the robe, is made up. To this day
traders in the East keep their seals in a little bag which they carry in
an inside pocket.
Fig. 133.—Tablet with impression from a
cylinder; from Layard.
Fig. 134.—Cylinder with ancient
bronze mount; from Soldi.

Fig. 135.—Cylinder and

attachment in one; from Soldi.
 Fig. 136.—Chaldæan cylinder;
from Ménant.

Fig. 137.—Impression from the same cylinder.

The practical requirements of the Mesopotamians were satisfied
with a hasty impression from their seals, but we must be more
difficult to please. Before we can study the cylinder with any
completeness we must have an impression in which no detail of the
intaglio is omitted; such a proof is to be obtained by a complete turn
of the cylinder upon some very plastic material, such as modelling-
wax, or fine and carefully mixed plaster-of-Paris. The operation
requires considerable skill. When it is well performed it results in a
minute bas-relief, a flat projection, in reverse, of the whole intaglio.
The subject represented and its execution can be much better seen
in a proof like this than on the original object, it is therefore by the
help of such impressions that cylinders are always studied; we make
use of them throughout this work. Our Figs. 136 and 137 give some
idea of the change in appearance between a cylinder and its
impression.
The cutting on the cylinders, or rather on all the engraved stones
of western Asia, is in intaglio. This is the earliest form of engraving
upon pietra-dura in every country; the cameo is always a much later
production; it is only to be found in the last stage of development,
when tools and processes have been carried to perfection. It is much
easier to scratch the stone and then to add with the point some
definition to the figure thus obtained, than to cut away the greater
part of the surface and leave the design in relief. The latter process
would have been especially difficult when the inscriptions borne by
many of the seals came to be dealt with. What long and painful
labour it would have required to thus detach the slender lines of the
cuneiform characters from the ground! And why should any attempt
of the kind be made? As soon as these engraved stones began to be
used as seals, there was every reason why the ancient process
should be retained. The designs and characters impressed upon
deeds and other writings were clearer and more legible in relief than
in intaglio. And it must be remembered that with the exception of
some late bricks on which letters are raised by wooden stamps, the
wedges were always hollowed out. We find but one period in the
history of Chaldæa when, as under the early dynasties of Egypt, her
written characters were chiselled in relief. It is, then, apparent that
the artists of Chaldæa would have done violence to their own
convictions and departed from long established habits, had they
deserted intaglio for work in relief. That they did not do so, even
when their skill was at its highest point, need cause us no surprise.
The Chaldæans naturally began with the softest materials, such
as wood, bone, and the shells picked up on the shores of the
Persian Gulf. Fragments of some large pearl oysters and of the
Tridacna squamosa, on which flowers, leaves, and horses have
been engraved with the point, have been brought from lower
Chaldæa to London (see Fig. 138).[301] Limestone, black, white, and
veined marble, and the steatite of which most of the cylinders are
made, were not much more difficult. These substances may easily
be cut with a sharp flint, or with metal tools either pointed or chisel-
shaped. With a little more effort and patience still harder materials,
such as porphyry and basalt; or the ferruginous marbles—
serpentine, syenite, hematite—could be overcome. The oldest
cylinders of all, those that are attributed to the first Chaldæan
monarchy, are mostly of these stubborn materials; their execution
was easy enough to the men who produced the statues of Gudea.
[302] All that such men required to pass from the carving of life-size
figures to the cutting of gems was good eyesight and smaller tools.
It was only towards the end of this period that more unkindly
stones began to be used, such as jasper and the different kinds of
agate, onyx, chalcedony, rock-crystal, garnets, &c. The employment
of such materials implies that of the characteristic processes of gem-
cutting, whose peculiarity consists in the substitution of friction for
cutting, in the supercession of a pointed or edged tool by a powder
taken from a substance harder, or at least as hard, as the one to be
operated upon. “The modern engraver upon precious stones,” says
M. Soldi, “sets about his work in this fashion. He begins by building
up a wax model of his proposed design upon slate. He then takes
the stone to be engraved, and fixes it in the end of a small wooden
staff. This done he makes use, for the actual engraving, of a kind of
lathe, consisting of a small steel wheel which is set in motion by a
large cast-iron flywheel turned by the foot. To the little wheel are
attached small tools of soft iron, some ending in a rounded button,
others in a cutting edge. The craftsman holds the staff with the stone
in his left hand; he brings it into contact with the instrument in the
lathe, while, from time to time, he drops a mixture of olive oil and
diamond dust upon it with his right hand; with the help of this powder
the instrument grinds out all the required hollows one after the
other.”[303]