Paul KeenanThe theology of ISIS relies on one key battle, writes Paul Keenan
Among the sites seized and subsumed during the dramatic expansion of the so-called Islamic State across the latter half of 2014, the village of Dabiq is one of the least familiar to Western ears.
The horrors inflicted on the Christians of Mosul in northern Iraq seared that name in the memory, the ongoing obliteration of the ancient ruins of Palmyra in Syria gave that site prominence and the selection of Raqqa as ISIS’ stronghold results in daily reminders via media updates of the group’s activities and bombing runs by those states now involved in the growing backlash against it. But it is Dabiq which is of prime importance to the theological drivers of ISIS.
Located towards the west of Syria, north of the city of Aleppo and close to the Turkish border, in more peaceful times Dabiq was a farming community of barely 2,000 people. Far from the main routes linking cities such as Damascus, Aleppo and Raqqa, Dabiq qualified for the term ‘backwater’.
So, when Dabiq was seized during ISIS’ early advances, military commanders with President Bashar al Assad’s army were unperturbed as this apparently non-strategic gain for the group. However, for students of Islam with a particular fixation on end time narratives, the capture of Dabiq was an historic event indeed.
Future battles
Within the great collection of sayings attributed to the Prophet Mohammad, the Hadith, the Prophet makes specific mention of Dabiq when speaking of future battles against non-believers which would signal the triumph of Islam over all.
In part, the quote runs: “The Last Hour would not come until the Romans would land at al A’maq or in Dabiq. An army consisting of the best (soldiers) of the people of the Earth at that time will come from Medina (to counteract them)… They will then fight and a third of the army would run away, whom Allah will never forgive. A third which would be constituted of excellent martyrs in Allah’s eye, would be killed and the third who would never be put to trial would win and they would be conquerors of Constantinople.”
No less compelling for those now rampaging under the black flag of ISIS than Meggido is to apocalypse-watchers within the Christian tradition, the capture of Dabiq has become a key indicator that the end times are near.
When it set up its online magazine for adherents in 2014, ISIS named its publication Dabiq in honour of the village and, in one early editorial, explained: “The area will play a historical role in the battles leading up to the conquests of Constantinople, then Rome.”
Just one vital element now needs to fall into place to signal the onward march of ISIS to Constantinople (and the planned establishment of Jerusalem as the capital of the worldwide caliphate) – the luring to Dabiq of an army of non-believers under 60 flags (some commentators insist it is 80), where the infidel coalition can be roundly defeated, clearing the way for ISIS’ onward march. Suddenly the ISIS attacks in Paris and beyond take on an entirely different perspective.
The return to prominence of Dabiq within recent Islamic commentary has come about primarily because of the twisted vision of ISIS’ reclusive chief, Abu Bakr al Baghdadi. Himself an ISISlamic scholar, to PhD level, al Baghdadi fulfils for this generation of radical Islamists the figure of the guiding Madhi – the messianic leader who will rise to lead Islam to its greatest and final triumph over the world.
A secretive figure with an obscure past, al Baghdadi emerged from the chaos of the American-led invasion of Iraq to become head of ISIS as it formed itself from the remnants of al Qaeda in Iraq.
Observers of that phase of history note that Osama bin Laden was receiving numerous warnings from associates that his al Qaeda branch in the war-torn country was being transformed by end time figures, something his theological advisor, Ayman al Zawahiri, tried unsuccessfully to tackle.
Falling off the radar then until 2014, when he made his one and only public appearance – at a mosque in the newly conquered Mosul – al Baghdadi re-emerged as Abu Bakr al Baghdadi al Husseini al Qurashi to announce the onset of the new caliphate, an earth-shaking moment for those who cling to the utopian tenets the term ‘caliphate’ promises.
The moment was suffused with meaning beyond just this announcement, however. Take the ISIS leader’s grand new name.
While Abu Bakr al Baghdadi translates as ‘Abu Bakr from Baghdad’, Abu Bakr itself is a name recognised as one who was the first Caliph (i.e. successor of Mohammad); the use of al Husseini references the name of Hussein, the father of the fourth Caliph of Islamic tradition, Ali (interpreted by some as an attempt to win over the Shi’ite branch of Islam, which considers Ali to be its first Imam), while al Quarashi (most important of all) places al Baghdadi along the tribal bloodline from the Prophet Mohammad himself, the most prestigious lineage of all.
Call it mythologising, call it overt religiosity, the al Baghdadi name is fantastic PR in attracting dreamers of the caliphate to the black flag.
Further still, having taken to the lectern to issue his call for the faithful to join him in his new caliphate, al Baghdadi was careful to speak first of religious leaders as those most precious on his wish list; those who share his apocalyptic vision and would be the first to greet the eager migrants who began to assail the Turkish border in their efforts to join ISIS.
Guarded
Today, the one area of the Turkish/Syrian border still fiercely held by ISIS is that stretch immediately north of Dabiq.
The hill overlooking the town is guarded at all times, both as an outpost and as the site where the Madhi will (according to some beliefs) reveal forgotten tracts of the Old Testament and win over Christian converts, before the march to Tiberius in modern ISISrael, where the Ark of the Covenant will be revealed, and then Jerusalem, where no less a figure than Jesus will greet the Madhi and defeat the Devil in a final showdown.
Before this, of course, ground troops of the grand coalition must be lured to their fate, to become the ‘boots on the ground’ that ISIS needs to fulfil its vision. In this, ironically, the West finds itself on the horns of a dilemma: keep troops out and ISIS will continue its Paris, Egypt and Lebanon-style attacks to goad the ‘far enemy’; or send the troops in to deal a decisive blow to a twisted ideology while simultaneously convincing its followers of its veracity.
Whatever else the enemies of ISIS decide, the battle of Dabiq must be settled.