• An examination of how global media framing shapes perceptions of violence; raising questions about consistency, accountability, and the power of language in defining who is feared, and who is understood
By Abdulkarim Abdulmalik
It often begins with a question people ask quietly, sometimes out of frustration, sometimes out of genuine curiosity: Why are some acts of violence described one way, and others differently? Why does language seem to shift depending on who commits the act?
In today’s fast-moving mass media industry, words used in casting headlines are less than neutral. They influence how we see the world, how we judge others, and sometimes, how we judge entire communities. Among the most debated of these words is “terrorism”—a term that carries moral weight, political consequences, and emotional intensity.
To understand the concern, requires an excursion into history.
When Adolf Hitler orchestrated the Holocaust, six million Jews were systematically murdered in one of the darkest chapters of human history. Yet, Hitler is not commonly described in religious terms. He is remembered as a Nazi dictator, not as a “Christian terrorist,” even though he emerged from a Christian-majority society.
Similarly, Joseph Stalin presided over policies that led to the deaths of millions through purges, forced labor camps, and famine. His brutality is well documented, yet he is framed as a communist authoritarian, not a figure defined by religious identity.
In China, Mao Zedong oversaw campaigns like the Great Leap Forward, which resulted in catastrophic famine and mass death. His actions are analyzed through the lens of revolutionary ideology and governance failures; not religion.
The same pattern appears with Benito Mussolini, whose expansionist ambitions caused suffering and loss of life. He is remembered as a fascist ruler, not labeled through a religious framework.
These examples are not raised to diminish their crimes; far from it. They are cited to highlight a broader point: when history records mass violence by certain figures, it tends to emphasize political ideology, power, and context rather than religion.
This stands in contrast to how some contemporary acts of violence are reported.
Since the early 21st century, especially after the events of 9/11 bombing of the Twin Tower in the United States of America, media narratives have often linked acts of terrorism involving Muslim perpetrators to religion itself. Phrases like “Islamist terrorism” became part of everyday vocabulary.
Over time, critics argue, this has created an association in the public mind; one that risks attaching the actions of individuals or groups with the beliefs of over a billion people. But reality, as always, is more complicated.
Take the ongoing crisis involving the Rohingya Muslims in Myanmar. Reports of violence, displacement, and human rights abuses have shocked the international community.
Many observers note that the language used to describe these atrocities often avoids broad religious labeling. Instead, it focuses on ethnic conflict, nationalism, and military action.
Consider the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan during the presidency of George W. Bush. These conflicts resulted in significant loss of life and long-term instability.
However, discussions around them tend to revolve around geopolitics, security strategy, and foreign policy decisions; not the personal religious identity of the leaders involved.
Looking further back, some of the most devastating events in history are rarely framed through religion at all. World War I and World War II reshaped the world and claimed tens of millions of lives. The atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki introduced a new scale of destruction. The chronicles of colonial expansion, the decimation of indigenous populations in the Americas and Australia, and the transatlantic slave trade all represent immense human suffering.
Yet, in most historical accounts, these events are explained through empire, economics, race, and power. Not religion!
So, what explains the difference?
Part of it lies in how the concept of “terrorism” has evolved. In modern usage, it is often associated with non-state actors: groups or individuals who use violence against civilians to achieve political or ideological goals.
This definition has shaped how mass media organizations report conflicts, especially in the context of global security concerns.
However, critics argue that even within this framework, inconsistencies remain. When similar acts of violence occur, the labels applied can vary depending on the identity of the perpetrator. This inconsistency, whether intentional or not, could influence public perception.
And perception matters.
When a particular group is repeatedly associated with negative labels, it can lead to stereotypes. Over time, these stereotypes could resort to prejudice; affecting everything from social interactions to public policy.
For many Muslims around the world, this is not an abstract concern. It is a lived experience.
At the same time, it is important to approach this issue with objectivity and balance.
Not every act of violence involving a Muslim should be labeled as terrorism, just as not every act involving a non-Muslim is framed differently. Media landscapes are diverse, and many journalists work hard to provide fair and accurate reporting.
In recent years, there has also been greater attention to other forms of extremism, including far-right and white supremacist violence, which are increasingly recognized and labeled as terrorism. Thus, historical comparisons must be made carefully.
For instance, leaders like Hitler, Stalin, and Mao were driven by ideologies that were often hostile to religion itself. So, describing their actions in religious terms would amount to oversimplifying the motivations behind their crimes.
The challenge therefore, is not to replace one form of labeling with another. It is about striving for consistency and clarity. Violence against innocent people should be condemned, regardless of who commits it. The criteria for labeling an act as terrorism should be applied evenly premised on actions and intent; not identity. And when religion is invoked, it should be done with nuance, recognizing the difference between individual actions and the beliefs of a wider community.
There is also a responsibility on the part of readers and viewers. In an era of social media and viral headlines, it is easy to accept narratives at face value. But critical thinking – asking questions, seeking context, and considering multiple perspectives – is more important than ever.
Ultimately, this conversation is not just about media. It is about fairness. It is about how we see one another in an increasingly interconnected world. And it is about whether we allow language to divide us or to help us understand.
History is filled with painful lessons. It shows us what happens when people are reduced to labels, when complexity is ignored, and when entire groups are judged by the actions of a few.
To this end, there is one lesson to carry forward: justice begins with how we tell the story.
– Abdulmalik is an Abuja-based journalist and can be reached on: nowmalik@gmail.com
