In today’s world, few words evoke more fear, condemnation, and reaction than “terrorism.” It is a term that dominates international headlines, justifies state violence, shapes immigration policies, and legitimizes military invasions. But is “terrorism” a universal and objective phenomenon—or is it a political narrative shaped by Western interests and media control?

In South Asia—home to some of the most protracted and politicized conflicts in the world—the word “terrorism” takes on a different meaning. It is not just a descriptor for bombs and bullets. It is a weaponized term used to define enemies, suppress dissent, justify occupation, and silence calls for justice. This essay explores how South Asian scholars and thinkers are challenging dominant Western narratives about terrorism, calling for a more contextual, just, and balanced understanding of political violence.

Who Gets to Define Terrorism?

Western governments and media have long promoted a narrow and selective definition of terrorism. Groups like al-Qaeda, ISIS, or Lashkar-e-Taiba are classified as terrorists with little hesitation. But what about state actors who bomb civilian neighborhoods with drones? What about military regimes that silence opposition through fear and force?

Bruce Hoffman, a prominent American terrorism scholar, acknowledges this ambiguity: “Terrorism is a pejorative term. It is what the bad guys do.” The absence of a universally accepted definition allows powerful nations to apply the term selectively, labeling opponents as “terrorists” while excusing or ignoring their own acts of violence.

In his work on peace-building and extremism in South Asia, D.B. Subedi emphasizes that non-state violence must be understood within local, historical, and post-colonial contexts. In his co-authored book Preventing and Countering Violent Extremism (2016), Subedi argues that such violence is often born from structural marginalization, poor governance, and state repression—not from irrational hatred or religious dogma. Unlike Western models that focus on eradicating “radicals,” Subedi calls for inclusive engagement with communities, even those at the margins.

Nepal’s Maoist War: Forgotten Terror, Enduring Retrorism

Among South Asia’s many tragedies, Nepal’s decade-long Maoist insurgency (1996–2006) stands out—not just for its death toll of over 17,000, but for the paradox it represents. It began as a violent revolutionary movement with utopian ideals, promising to uproot caste hierarchy, feudalism, and injustice. But what it delivered was systematic terror: abductions, executions, land seizures, destruction of infrastructure, child soldiers, and the near collapse of rural governance.

And yet, rarely is the Maoist insurgency labeled “terrorism” in international discourse. Why? Perhaps because it lacked the transnational jihadist optics that excite Western media. Perhaps because it has since been laundered into a political movement, with its leaders now wearing suits, occupying ministries, and shaping constitutions.

But make no mistake: the Maoist insurgency deployed terrorism in both tactic and ideology. It used fear as a weapon. It sought political power through calculated brutality. And most disturbingly, this same psychological architecture—the normalization of coercion, the sanctification of violence, and the disdain for institutional restraint—continues to influence Nepali politics today.

This is what we might call retrorism: the retroactive continuation of revolutionary violence, now embedded in the state itself. The very individuals and groups who once terrorized the countryside now operate through state machinery. They speak of democracy but sabotage institutions. They speak of justice but shelter war criminals. They no longer fight the state—they are the state, and the violence continues, only now cloaked in legitimacy.

Nepal offers a crucial lesson: not all terrorism ends when guns go silent. Sometimes, it mutates, evolves, and infects the institutions of governance—producing a slow, administrative terror that is harder to detect but no less harmful.

The Colonial Legacy of the Terror Narrative

South Asian scholars like Zaynab Seedat have explored how the term “terrorism” itself is rooted in colonial power. In her 2023 doctoral thesis, Writing the South Asian Muslim Terrorist: Religion, Politics and ‘Terror’ from a Postcolonial Lens, Seedat shows how British colonial administrators—and later, Western governments—constructed the image of the “violent Muslim” to justify domination, surveillance, and war. The same trope now reappears in global media coverage, especially when it comes to conflicts in Kashmir, Afghanistan, and Pakistan.

Seedat notes that “Muslim” and “terrorist” are often used interchangeably in Western discourses, reducing complex political struggles to simple religious extremism. She urges readers to examine how colonial legacies continue to shape who gets called a terrorist—and who gets to be called a freedom fighter.

State Terrorism: The Blind Spot in Western Discourse

Perhaps the most glaring weakness in mainstream terrorism studies is the deliberate exclusion of state violence. The dominant view holds that only non-state actors can be terrorists, while state actions are classified as law enforcement or warfare—even when they involve torture, extrajudicial killings, or attacks on civilians.

In Terrorism Revisited (2017), Siegfried O. Wolf critiques this double standard with a close look at Pakistan’s military-intelligence establishment. Wolf documents how Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) has long supported militant groups for strategic purposes, particularly in Kashmir and Afghanistan. Yet these actions are rarely framed as “state terrorism” in Western discourse. Why? Because the global narrative has been shaped by states that wish to avoid accountability for their own forms of terror.

Sri Lanka offers another revealing case. During its civil war, the government’s crackdown on Tamil separatists involved massacres, disappearances, and indiscriminate shelling of civilian areas. While the Tamil Tigers were rightly condemned for suicide bombings and assassinations, the equally brutal violence committed by the state was treated as “national security.”

Kashmir and Bangladesh: Layers of Omission

No discussion of South Asian terrorism is complete without examining Kashmir. Western media frequently frames the Kashmiri insurgency as a jihadist movement. Yet scholars like Christopher Snedden in The Untold Story of the People of Azad Kashmir (2012), and Tahir Amin in Mass Resistance in Kashmir (1995), show that the roots of rebellion lie in political, not religious, aspirations. These works remind us that insurgency is not synonymous with extremism—it can also be an expression of long-suppressed political agency.

In Bangladesh, analysts point to how political elites have occasionally tolerated or used radical groups like JMB for strategic gain. But again, the Western narrative flattens this complexity, reducing it to yet another chapter in the global war on terror.

Whose Violence Counts?

Maryam Raashed, in Rethinking Terrorism in South Asia (2021), forcefully argues that terrorism studies suffer from a deep epistemological bias. Hindu nationalist mobs lynching Muslims are labeled “rioters,” not terrorists. State-perpetrated massacres are labeled “security operations.” Only when the perpetrator is Muslim, stateless, or politically weak, does the terrorism label get applied.

Ajai Sahni, director of the South Asia Terrorism Portal, emphasizes that terrorism in the region is as much about state strategy and regional proxy warfare as it is about religious ideology. In his testimony to the UK Parliament, Sahni warned against over-simplification—and against ignoring the role of state actors in sponsoring or tolerating terror for strategic goals.

Toward a Just Vocabulary

If we want to fight terrorism, we must first fight the vocabulary that surrounds it. We must recognize that the term is often used more to silence than to clarify, more to criminalize dissent than to address suffering.

Nepal’s Maoist war reminds us that terror can be a ladder to power—and that unless we confront this legacy honestly, its residue will continue to corrode governance. South Asia’s experience teaches that terrorism is not just an act of violence—it is a politics of fear. It can come from the mountains or the capital. From rebels or regimes.

Conclusion: Deconstructing the Narrative, Reconstructing Justice
The word “terrorism” is not neutral. It has been used to wage wars, pass draconian laws, and stigmatize entire populations. South Asia shows us the danger of accepting Western narratives without scrutiny. It also shows us the possibility of building a more just language—one that sees all violence clearly, names all perpetrators honestly, and builds peace from the ground up.

Let us begin by asking: if violence that killed 17,000 Nepalis is not terrorism, what is? And if those who led that terror now sit in parliament, is this peace—or retrorism in disguise?

(Dr. Janardan Subedi is a Professor of Sociology at Miami University, Ohio, USA. He writes on democracy, political ethics, and South Asian affairs.)

@HT