Redefining Justice in the War on Terror

The concept of justice has always been a cornerstone of societal order, yet its definition is often wielded as a tool to serve the interests of the powerful while sidelining the vulnerable. In the aftermath of the September 11 attacks, the United States invoked justice as the rallying cry for its global "war on terror," a campaign that spanned continents and claimed millions of lives. Over two decades later, this war's enduring legacy forces us to confront uncomfortable truths: justice, as applied in the war on terror, has been anything but universal. Instead, it has been narrowly tailored to privilege certain victims while systematically excluding others, especially Muslims, whose suffering has been buried beneath state narratives and public amnesia.

The recent revocation of a plea deal involving three Guantanamo Bay detainees accused of orchestrating the 9/11 attacks encapsulates the long-standing inequities in how justice is conceptualized and administered. These men—Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, Walid Bin' Attash, and Mustafa al-Hawsawi—were reportedly prepared to plead guilty in exchange for life sentences rather than facing the death penalty. The proposed agreement, however, was abruptly rescinded by U.S. Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin, sparking widespread political and public backlash. For some, the plea deal symbolized a pragmatic resolution to an interminable legal quagmire; for others, it represented an unacceptable concession. This schism reveals deeper tensions not just about the mechanics of justice, but also about who is deemed worthy of it and how it is deployed as a political instrument.

The 9/11 attacks were a watershed moment in modern history, inflicting a profound psychological and emotional toll on the United States. In their aftermath, the U.S. government promised retribution and accountability—a vision of justice designed to offer closure to grieving families and a scarred nation. Yet, over 20 years later, the trials of the alleged masterminds remain mired in procedural delays and legal complexities. The plea deal’s proponents, including some victims' families and human rights advocates, viewed it as an imperfect but necessary step toward resolving a case that has languished in legal limbo.  

For others, however, the very idea of sparing the accused from the death penalty felt like a betrayal. Lawmakers from both major political parties, such as Senators Richard Blumenthal and Lindsey Graham, lambasted the agreement as insufficient, arguing that it undermined the severity of the crimes committed. Such criticisms reflect not only the emotional gravity of the 9/11 attacks but also a broader societal expectation that justice must be punitive to be meaningful. Yet this perspective overlooks a critical point: the inability to resolve these cases is itself a symptom of the systemic failures inherent in the U.S. justice system, particularly as it relates to the war on terror.

One of the most significant barriers to prosecuting the 9/11 defendants is the shadow of torture. In the years following the attacks, the CIA subjected detainees to "enhanced interrogation techniques" that amounted to torture under international law. These practices not only violated the moral and legal standards the United States claims to uphold but also tainted the evidence against the accused, rendering much of it inadmissible in court.  

This legacy of torture has created an insurmountable obstacle to achieving legal accountability, forcing prosecutors to rely on plea deals as a pragmatic alternative. The government’s own actions have, paradoxically, made it nearly impossible to deliver the justice it promised. Yet, rather than reckoning with this failure, U.S. officials have largely deflected responsibility, perpetuating a narrative that frames justice as a zero-sum game—one in which the only legitimate victims are those directly affected by the 9/11 attacks.

The plea deal controversy also highlights the deeply selective nature of justice in the war on terror. While the U.S. government has gone to great lengths to secure accountability for the 9/11 attacks, it has shown little interest in addressing the far-reaching consequences of its own actions. The wars in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Yemen, and other Muslim-majority countries have resulted in the deaths of millions and the displacement of countless more. Yet these victims have received no comparable acknowledgment, let alone restitution.

When U.S. military actions result in civilian casualties, the government’s response is often dismissive at best. In rare cases, token gestures such as condolence payments are offered, but these are neither sufficient nor reflective of genuine accountability. The disparity between the treatment of 9/11 victims and the countless Muslim civilians harmed by U.S. policies underscores a troubling double standard: justice is reserved for some, while others are excluded from its purview altogether. 

Underlying this exclusion is a broader issue of collective memory. The dominant narrative of 9/11 and its aftermath has been carefully constructed to center the suffering of Americans while erasing or marginalizing the experiences of Muslims, both in the United States and abroad. This narrative has been reinforced through media coverage, political rhetoric, and cultural representations that depict Muslims primarily as perpetrators rather than victims.  

This erasure is not accidental; it serves a specific political purpose. By framing Muslims as inherently threatening, the U.S. government has been able to justify a wide range of repressive policies, from mass surveillance and immigration restrictions to indefinite detention and targeted killings. These policies, in turn, perpetuate the very stereotypes that underpin them, creating a self-reinforcing cycle of dehumanization and exclusion.  

To challenge this cycle, it is essential to expand the collective memory of the war on terror to include the voices and experiences of Muslim victims. As scholars have noted, collective memory is not just about preserving the past; it is also about shaping the future. By acknowledging the full scope of harm caused by the war on terror, we can begin to dismantle the narratives that have sustained it and pave the way for a more inclusive vision of justice.  

Achieving justice for Muslims affected by the war on terror requires more than just legal accountability; it necessitates a fundamental shift in how justice is conceptualized and pursued. This shift must begin with a recognition that justice cannot be narrowly defined as retribution or confined to a single group of victims. Instead, it must be understood as a broader process that seeks to address systemic harm, promote healing, and restore dignity to all those who have been wronged.  

Such a framework would demand accountability not only for acts of terrorism but also for the state violence perpetrated in the name of combating it. It would require the establishment of mechanisms to document and redress the harm caused by U.S. policies, from civilian casualties in conflict zones to the psychological toll of surveillance and discrimination on Muslim communities. Crucially, it would also necessitate a commitment to centering the voices of Muslim victims in discussions about justice and accountability.

As we enter the 24th year of the war on terror, the question of justice remains as urgent as ever. The controversy surrounding the Guantanamo plea deal is not just about the fate of three men; it is a microcosm of the broader failures and contradictions that have defined the war on terror from the outset.  

To move forward, we must confront these contradictions head-on. This means acknowledging the limitations of the existing justice system, challenging the exclusionary narratives that underpin it, and working to build a more inclusive and equitable vision of justice. Only then can we begin to address the full scope of harm caused by the war on terror and ensure that its victims—whether in New York, Baghdad, or Kabul—are no longer forgotten.  

In redefining justice, we must also redefine memory. For as long as the stories of Muslim victims remain untold, the promise of justice will remain unfulfilled. It is only by amplifying these voices and embedding them in the collective consciousness that we can hope to achieve a reckoning worthy of the name.