Why some engineers become terrorists

An IIT graduate — so the story goes — is walking near a pond one day when a frog speaks to him. "Kiss me," it says, "and i will turn into a beautiful princess." The IITian does a double-take, turns back to check if he has heard right, and sure enough, the frog repeats itself: "Kiss me and i will turn into a beautiful princess." He looks thoughtfully at the frog, picks it up and puts it into his pocket. A plaintive wail soon emerges: "Kiss me and i will turn into a beautiful princess." He ignores it and walks on. Soon the frog asks, "Aren't you going to kiss me?" The IIT guy stops, pulls the frog out of his pocket, and replies matter-of-factly: "I'm an engineer. I don't have time for a girlfriend. But a talking frog is cool." No prizes for guessing what a literature graduate would have done in the same situation! Such is the self-image of the engineer in India: rational, hard-working, self-disciplined, steady, focused on the results of his work. Parents pray for the smartest of their kids to become engineers. Any child with better than average marks in science at school is pushed towards the profession, sustained by peer pressure that convinces him there could be no higher aspiration. And no doubt for some there isn't. But that clearly isn't the whole story. Disturbing new research at Oxford University by sociologists Diego Gambetta and Steffen Hertog points to an intriguing — one might say worrying — correlation between engineering and terrorism. If that doesn't raise eyebrows at the IITs, nothing will. But consider the evidence: Osama bin Laden was a student of engineering. So were the star 9/11 kamikaze pilot Mohammed Atta, the alleged mastermind of that plot, Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, and their all-but-forgotten predecessor, the chief plotter of the 1993 World Trade Center bombing, Ramzi Yousef. The Oxford scholars, after putting together educational biographies for some 300 known members of violent Islamist groups from 30 countries, concluded that a majority of these Islamist terrorists were not just highly educated, but a startling number of them are engineers. Indeed, according to Gambetta and Hertog, nearly half had studied engineering. A summary of their research in Foreign Policy magazine remarked that "across the Middle East and Southeast Asia, the share of engineers in violent Islamist groups was found to be at least nine times greater than what one might expect, given their proportion of the working male population." Is there something about engineering that makes its most proficient graduates vulnerable to the temptations of violent extremism? Gambetta and Hertog seem to think so. They have no patience for the more conventional possible explanation — that engineers might be sought after by terrorist groups for their technical expertise in making and blowing up things. Instead, they argue that the reason there are so many terrorist engineers is that the subject helps produce a mindset that makes one prone to radicalisation. Engineers consider themselves problem solvers, and when the world seems to present a problem, they look to engineering-type solutions to solve it. Engineering, Gambetta and Hertog suggest, predisposes its votaries to absolute and non-negotiable principles, and therefore to fundamentalism; it is a short step from appreciating the predictable laws of engineering to following an ideology or a creed that is infused with its own immutable laws. It is easy for engineers to become radicalised, the researchers argue, because they are attracted by the "intellectually clean, unambiguous, and all-encompassing" solutions that both the laws of engineering and radical Islam provide. According to Gambetta and Hertog, surveys in Canada, Egypt, and the US have proved over the years that engineers tend to be more devout, and more politically conservative, than the rest of the population. I'm not suggesting one should buy wholesale the conclusions of the Oxford researchers; I know a few engineers who wouldn't harm a fly, so i'd be wary of making any sweeping generalisations about an entire profession. But the study does seem to me to open the door to make a nowadays unfashionable case: the argument in favour of studying the humanities. I have always believed that the well-formed mind is preferable to the well-filled one, and it takes a knowledge of history and an appreciation of literature to form a mind that is capable of grappling with the diversity of human experience in a world devoid of certitudes. If terrorism is to be tackled and ended, we will have to deal with fear, rage and incomprehension that animates it. We will have to know each other better, learn to see ourselves as others see us, learn to recognise hatred and deal with its causes, learn to dispel fear, and above all just learn about each other. It is not the engineering mindset that facilitates such learning, but the vision of the humanities student. The mind is like a parachute — it functions best when it is open. It takes reading and learning about other peoples and cultures to open (and broaden) minds. Ignorance and lack of imagination remain the handmaidens of violence. Without extending our imagination, we cannot understand how peoples of other races, religions or languages share the same dreams, the same hopes. Without reading widely and broadening our minds, we cannot understand the myriad manifestations of the human condition, nor fully appreciate the universality of human aims and aspirations. Without the humanities, we cannot recognise that there is more than one side to a story, and more than one answer to a question. That, of course, is never true in engineering. Perhaps the solution lies in making it compulsory for every engineering student to take at least 20% of his courses in the humanities. Maybe then he might even kiss the frog.

Einstein’s Idea Of Religion

In a long life, Einstein spoke and wrote on a vast range of topics, and practically every paragraph has been dissected to discover its meaning today, or to bolster our own particular beliefs. One of his interesting sayings is that the most beautiful experience one may enjoy is a ‘sense of mystery’. Inevitably this has led to the suggestion that Einstein was in some way a mystic. (I define mysticism as the search for conscious awareness of, or communion or unity with, the divine through direct experience.) Einstein’s religious views have been a matter of considerable controversy. Max Jammer, the well-known Jewish historian and philosopher of science, wrote a thoughtful book, Einstein and Religion, concluding that for Einstein ‘religion’ was definitely not ‘atheism’. Einstein himself said that: ‘You will hardly find one among the profounder sort of scientific minds without a religious feeling’. Yet in his bestselling and much-publicised atheist polemic, The God Delusion, Richard Dawkins, who takes most of his Einstein quotes from Jammer, categorises Einstein as ‘atheistic’. Einstein, in fact, spoke and wrote of God extremely frequently; for example his most famous way of criticising the random nature of quantum mechanics was to say ‘God does not play dice’. He described himself as ‘an intensely religious man’, but also, equally interestingly, as ‘a deeply religious non-believer’. A crucial point is that Einstein stated categorically that he did not believe in a personal God, of the kind assumed by most practising religious people. He had not always been this way. Though brought up in a very liberal Jewish household, at the age of six he became fervently religious, obeying all the religious prescriptions. However, when he was 12, he read various scientific texts and came to believe that much in the Jewish bible could not be true. This was a crucial period in his life, in which he became an intense freethinker, first over religious matters, later over orthodox scientific beliefs. Einstein detested the idea of a personal God who rewarded or punished his creatures, or exercised his will by interfering in events. He felt such an idea was intrinsically connected with human selfishness, merely ‘a reflection of human frailty’. Einstein’s God was a much more lofty idea. However, for Christian fundamentalists on one flank, and for Dawkins on the diametrically opposite flank, anything but a personal God was no God at all, and Einstein could be vilified or saluted as an atheist. So what was Einstein’s religion? He called it ‘cosmic religion’ and it was a sense of awe at ‘the nobility and marvellous order which are revealed in nature and in the world of thought’. He believed that throughout history the greatest religious geniuses have followed cosmic religion, and that exploring this order in the laws of science was the motivation for the most celebrated scientists such as Newton and Kepler. Without this feeling of confidence in order and simplicity, science, he felt, degenerated into uninspired empiricism. Einstein felt closest to the nineteenth century Jewish philosopher, Baruch Spinoza, who also rejected the idea of a personal God. Like Einstein, some considered Spinoza intensely religious while others judged him an atheist. Spinoza’s firmest belief was in a universal determinism; all events, including the actions of human beings, followed a precise law of cause and effect. There was no free will, and thus no justification for punishment of offenders. Einstein broadly followed Spinoza in these beliefs. As is well known, as well as realism, he was a strong believer in determinism; one of his main arguments against quantum mechanics was that it respected neither. Spinoza’s belief in the unity of nature was paralleled in Einstein’s long search for a unified field theory. Einstein’s view of traditional religion was somewhat ambivalent. He detested any idea of indoctrination or fundamentalism, but admitted that conventional religions had a role in setting ethical standards. Dawkins would disagree, considering that ‘the cause of all this misery, mayhem, violence, terror and ignorance is religion itself ’. Einstein also venerated the founders of the major religions, especially Jesus and Buddha; Dawkins might be more sceptical. Einstein even found the elements of cosmic religion in the Psalms and the Proverbs of the bible, and particularly in Buddhism. An interesting question is whether Einstein’s beliefs, like those of Spinoza, were pantheistic, in the sense of actual worship of Nature, giving it the status of God. At times Einstein seemed close to accepting this label, but he was clear that God was to be found in the laws of the Universe, not in Nature itself. Jammer suggests that Einstein’s theology may be called a naturalistic theology, in which one searches for God by study of the Universe. So at last we reach the question: Could Einstein be considered a mystic? Awe about the Universe might lead to some direct spiritual experience of ‘God’, however ‘God’ might be defined. However Einstein explicitly rejected such ideas, saying: ‘Mysticism is the only reproach that people cannot level against my theory’. Whatever his feeling of wonder about the Universe, his exploration into its laws was always entirely rational. He believed that scientific knowledge could not be obtained through direct supernatural perception, and incidentally considered any idea of personal immortality or the suggestion of any contact with the dead ridiculous. I started off by suggesting that many things may be read into Einstein’s words, but mysticism is certainly one thing that may be ruled out.