After the marginalization of ethnic and religious minorities by a Shia-dominated government in Iraq and the eruption of civil war in neighbouring Syria, the region has become fertile soil for radical jihadist movements.

As the most successful terrorist organization since al-Qaeda’s heyday, the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS) dropped the last two letters of its acronym, becoming the ‘Islamic State’ (IS), liberating itself from the geographical constraints that used to bind it. Now, it seeks the classical dream of every Islamic insurgent group: the restoration of the elusive caliphate, uniting all Muslims under religious rule. The group’s evolution does not, however, explain why the organization has been successful in recruiting thousands of fighters from Western nations.

According to some estimates, 1,000 to 3,000 fighters have joined IS from Western countries, including around 130 Canadians.

According to some estimates, 1,000 to 3,000 fighters have joined IS from Western countries, including around 130 Canadians. An example of one of these Canadian fighters is Calgary businessman Salman Ashrafi, who prior to his departure to the Persian Gulf, worked for Talisman Energy, an oil and gas company. The Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS) revealed that Ashrafi had carried out a suicide bombing responsible for killing 19 Iraqis in northern Baghdad in November 2013.

Why would a Canadian citizen abandon a relatively comfortable lifestyle, a job, and a family to join the ranks of an insurgent group halfway around the globe – one that has killed thousands and displaced millions at that? The answer could be rooted in the notion of radicalization, the process by which, for a host of reasons, people adopt tactics of extreme violence. We could therefore rephrase the question to: what influences are responsible for the radicalization of Canadians such as Ashrafi?

In the absence of cultural integration, immigrants remain captives of whichever cultural cluster they belong to. What’s more, a fear of mixing with other cultural groups is a completely understandable reaction in a society that still treats people of Middle Eastern origin with suspicion. Xenophobia and racism aimed at immigrant populations (especially those of Middle Eastern origin) are precursors to social isolation. The proposed Quebec Charter of Values, which sought to ban conspicuous religious dress among public sector workers, is clear evidence of this underlying xenophobia.

Xenophobia and racism are not the only factors that push Canadians toward radicalization – foreign policy plays an important part.

The result of this sort of prejudice is that many feel like outsiders in their own country; immigrant groups with similar ideologies, religious views, and cultural backgrounds then form their own social circles in isolation from the rest of society. In the absence of ideological diversity, and in the presence of feelings of social rejection, these clusters could easily foster radical notions and yield radicalized individuals.

Xenophobia and racism are not the only factors that push Canadians toward radicalization – foreign policy plays an important part. All over the West, citizens (not necessarily immigrants) have expressed their outrage at the recent stances of their various countries regarding Gaza, Syria, and Iraq. Canadian foreign policy toward the Middle East, which is almost as hawkish as the U.S., is unquestionably a source of frustration and even personal attack to many citizens. For this reason, hundreds of Montrealers took to the streets in July, calling on the Canadian government to condemn the Israeli operation in Gaza.

Such healthy forms of self-expression provide means for citizens with opposing views to channel their condemnation of government policies. Political activism, at its most effective, can change society – at its least effective, it can at least eliminate an accumulation of resentment and bring people together.

With all the cultural stigma attached to peaceful forms of protest, along with a valid fear of prosecution, some immigrants could become more inclined to channel their political frustrations via radically violent routes.

Unlike those who marched the streets of Montreal to express their political views, some immigrants, especially those of Arab and Middle Eastern descent, do not share the same culture of dissent. Despite what the Arab Spring might suggest, the state of political awareness and activism in the region is still nascent. For those who have been raised under more authoritarian governments, various forms of protesting the government are severely stigmatized. The Daily article “Do you speak politics” (Commentary, June 26, 2014) illustrates how political activism was considered taboo among many Turks, including the youth. It was not until the Taksim Gezi Park incident in 2013 that waves of demonstrations started to appear in Turkey. Even after the Arab Spring movements, political activists in the Middle East (including journalists) still face systematic oppression.

With all the cultural stigma attached to peaceful forms of protest, along with a valid fear of prosecution, some immigrants could become more inclined to channel their political frustrations via radically violent routes. Radical movements such as IS take advantage of this frustration and turn it into violence.

Though Western governments point to the use of social media to lure foreign fighters, we must realize that it is not the distinguished marketing skills of the jihadists that are responsible for their great recruitment success. Rather, disasters could be evaded if Western governments adopted less exploitative foreign policies that target not just institutions but people. Society as a whole should also recognize that xenophobia and racism aimed at immigrants will only lead to further cultural clustering and isolation of these communities.

Mohamed Laila is a PhD student in Natural Resources Sciences, and can be reached at mohamed.laila@mail.mcgill.ca.

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A trade-off exists between two types of government systems: technocracy and democracy. The pure form of technocracy leads to elitism and possible tyranny, while the pure form of democracy (without a mechanism to include expert judgement in decision-making) will lead to state failure. Although the following two stories occur in very different times and places, the connection between them will help us formulate the right questions on demarcating scientific authority.

Charles Thorpe, a professor of sociology at the University of California San Diego, thoroughly analyzed the case of J. Robert Oppenheimer in an article published in Social Studies of Science by depicting the inquisition of scientific authority in post-World War II America. Perhaps the second-most renowned physicist of his time (the first being Albert Einstein), Oppenheimer was the lead scientist on the secret Manhattan Project, which was responsible for developing the atomic bomb.

After the Allies dropped the atomic bomb, ending the Second World War, science in the U.S. was seen a means to further advance the military. Assimilation between scientists and the government began to take place so that scientific expertise could be used for further military (and later economic) applications, especially with the rise of the Soviet threat. The mechanism for the assimilation was based on forming panels of scientific experts, or ad-hoc committees, to offer advice to elected officials. In that sense, those officials retained control over policy orientation while benefiting from experts’ knowledge. When the Soviets tested their first hydrogen bomb (H-bomb), the U.S. government rushed to keep up with the arms race, demanding that their scientists focus on building the American H-Bomb.

Though Oppenheimer emerged from WWII as the most prominent scientific advisor to the state, he exceeded his demarcated authority by discouraging his peer scientists from working on the H-bomb because he questioned its strategic necessity. Oppenheimer advised the government to invest in researching small-scale tactical nuclear weapons that could be deployed in the battlefield rather than on civilian populations, a suggestion that the ‘Red Scare’ propaganda advocates in the military detested. Red Scare propaganda in post-World War II America was based on exaggerating the Soviet threat to secure popular support for military expenditure and heightened security measures. Oppenheimer was brought to a hearing by the United States Atomic Energy Commission in which his national loyalty was questioned. Although exonerated from treason charges, Oppenheimer was stripped of his security clearances and privileges and was no longer allowed to work for any government projects.

The second story takes place in Egypt in 2014, where in February, the Egyptian military announced the discovery of a cure for HIV. The mechanism of the ‘cure,’ which allegedly treats not only HIV but also Hepatitis C (HCV), was not discussed thoroughly for alleged security reasons. The timing of the announcement, on the brink of presidential elections in which the Egyptian popular hero Field Marshal Abdel Fattah al-Sisi is running – suggests that the invention aims to highlight the achievements of the military and its leader, and appeal to a significant demographic of the electoral pool (Egypt has highest rate of HCV infections in the world).

When Essam Heggy, chief scientific advisor to the Egyptian president and a renowned NASA scientist, expressed his harsh skepticism about the invention and considered it a scientific scandal, he was subject to the Egyptian media’s ad-hominem attacks. Heggy told Egyptian newspaper El Watan, “I want to be clear and explicit, what has been said and published about the invention of the armed forces hurts the image of scientists and science in Egypt.”

Not unlike the Oppenheimer hearing, Heggy was accused by government supporters of treason and anti-nationalistic sentiments, and by some TV talk show hosts of siding with the ousted Muslim Brotherhood against the military. The witch-hunt continues to this day.

Despite the great variance in time and place of both stories, an obvious connection exists between them. Both Oppenheimer and Heggy were part of the government, and both of them disagreed with high-ranking officials. One can argue that if both issues were put to a vote, the American population during the Red Scare of the 1950s, and the Egyptian population during the country’s turbulence in 2014, would put their trust in their political leadership over scientists.

The problem is therefore inherent to the system in which the public, represented by their elected officials or beloved military heroes, challenge the authority of the experts whenever it defies their government propaganda. The questions of how to establish scientific authority that gains the trust of the people, and the boundaries of this authority versus the judgement of the elected officials, will remain unresolved. In the end, people will have to make a choice about who to trust to govern them, and for that choice we shall reap the consequences.

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There are two types of biofuels in the world: ones that compete with food crops and cause famines, and others that use agricultural waste and non-edible crops. Not being huge fans of world hunger, most of us prefer the second type.

Biofuel Network (BFN) is a Canadian initiative that brings together academic and industrial institutions working on economically and environmentally sustainable fuel options; McGill is the proud host of this organization (don’t get excited, McGill was also the proud host of the Petrocultures conference earlier this month). As a PhD student, I am working with Professors Joann Whalen of Natural Resource Sciences, and Jeffrey Bergthorson of Mechanical Engineering, on comparing different alternative jet fuel technologies.

Despite our efforts, there is a fierce political battle currently being fought against biofuels in the U.S. which might affect the Canadian transition to sustainable, renewable fuels.

The EPA proposed to lower the annual volume of 2014 RFS targets. The proposal, moved by the Obama administration, was hailed by the oil industry and interest groups, while it came as shocking news to hundreds of biofuel companies and corn producers.

The story begins in 2005, when the Renewable Fuel Standard (RFS) was established under the Energy Policy Act as the first minimum volume mandate for renewable fuels in the U.S.. Later in 2007, the congress issued RFS-2 as part of the Energy Security and Independence Act, which dramatically increased the mandate and included new types of second-generation biofuels. RFS-2 also necessitated that fuels undergo a life cycle assessment analysis (considering all emissions from raw material extraction to utilization phase) to validate that they produce fewer greenhouse gases overall than conventional fossil fuels.

Congress gave the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) the power to change the annual targets of renewable fuel blends. If you are ever in a U.S. gas station, for example, you’ll probably notice the ‘E10’ sticker on the gas pump, indicating that the fuel contains 10 per cent ethanol. In November 2012, for the first time in history, the EPA proposed to lower the annual volume of 2014 RFS targets. The proposal, moved by the Obama administration, was hailed by the oil industry and interest groups, while it came as shocking news to hundreds of biofuel companies and corn producers.

Hardcore biofuels opponents such as the American Petroleum Institute (API), which is lobbying to completely repeal the RFS, commented that the EPA proposal was a step forward but not enough. “Ultimately Congress must protect consumers from this outdated and unworkable program,” said Jack Gerard, president of the API, according to the Washington Post.

Can we really afford further discouragement to young researchers planning to work on alternative energies?

On the other hand, biofuels proponents have expressed their shock and disappointment in the EPA proposal. According to Bob Dinneen, president of the Renewable Fuels Association, the EPA proposed trimming the RFS targets for 2014 to “capitulate” the fossil lobby. In anticipation of an annual increase in RFS targets, farmers planted 93 million acres of corn. Now with the trimming threat, more than 500 million bushels (with one bushel equivalent to eight fluid gallons) of demand have been compromised.

The effect of reducing the RFS targets in 2014 (or repealing the targets altogether if pressure from oil lobbies continues) is not limited to the U.S.. In a 2012 action plan issued by the Obama administration aiming to incorporate biofuels in the military fuel supply chain, the U.S. recognizes feedstock grown in Canada as “local.” The geographical proximity of Canadian fertile soils, and the demand encouraged by the RFS-2, provided a real opportunity for Canadian agribusinesses and bioenergy crops. It also served as a motive for Canadian policy makers and environmental groups to push for further governmental support for biofuels development (such as the Biofuel Network, which McGill is an active part of).

My personal concern with the EPA proposal’s implications is twofold. First, the direct consequences will include downsizing of existing ethanol value chains, and consequently people losing their jobs. My second concern is the message this repeal is sending to youth. Can we really afford further discouragement to young researchers planning to work on alternative energies? Is this that the message the ‘progressive’ Obama administration would like to convey to future scientists and entrepreneurs? Don’t bother with biofuels, solar or wind energy. Oil has won. Oil and all his friends.

Mohamed Leila is a PhD student in Natural Resources Sciences, and can be reached at mohamed.laila@mail.mcgill.ca.

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