I think we all know what they are trying to do – they are trying to use the slaughter of innocent people to cower us, to frighten us out of doing the things that we want to do, of trying to stop us going about our business as normal, as we are entitled to do, and they should not, and they must not, succeed.
Tony Blair
The London Bombings of July 2005 confirmed what everyone had feared since the attacks of 9/11 in New York: that the UK, as well as the USA, was now a major target for Islamic fundamentalist terror attacks. On Thursday, July 7, 2005, a co-ordinated attack of four bombs, three on the underground and one on a bus, killed 52 people and injured 700 more. This was the scenario that the public, the security services and the government had been dreading for months, years even – a direct attack on London’s massive, overcrowded public transport system during a peak rush-hour period.
As the emergency services moved in, the full horror of the scenes below ground, and in the street where the bus exploded, began to become clear. Underground, emergency workers braved the darkness, smoke and carnage to rescue those who were still alive and to retrieve the bodies of those who had died. Above ground, the remains of the bus bore witness to the blast that had taken place on board, as victims staggered about the streets covered in blood, dust and debris. Such scenes horrified the nation when pictures of the atrocity began to be released on television and in the newspapers.
Yet, characteristically, the British public reacted calmly on the whole, and it was not long before Londoners resumed their normal lives. Later, when the details of those who had died were published, it became clear just how indiscriminate the attacks had been, and an unexpectedly moving picture emerged of London as a tolerant community in which people of all races, backgrounds and faiths lived and worked side by side. Far from attracting sympathy to their cause, the bombers had merely succeeded in showing how well integrated the community of the city was on a day-to-day level, offering a snapshot of people from all over the world who had come to London to pursue their careers and build successful lives. In contrast, the bombers could only be seen as a retrogressive force dedicated to a nihilistic death cult set on destroying modern civilization.
Exactly two weeks after the bombings, four attempted bombings took place in London. Like the earlier attacks, there were three bombs placed on underground trains and one on a bus. Thankfully, the attacks were foiled by the security services and none of the bombs were detonated, but they served as a frightening reminder that terror attacks were still a threat to the lives of everyone in the nation’s capital city.
When the suicide bombers of July 7 were eventually identified – all of the terrorists died in the attacks – new questions were raised as to the pathology of the culprits. For the most part, the bombers were young men from relatively stable backgrounds; they were not people whose lives had been fragmented by war, loss and poverty. So why had these individuals turned against their families and their society in this way, condemning themselves to their own deaths in the process? The pathology of the suicide bombers was perplexing, and it is still an issue that is under-researched in the discussion of the phenomenon of terrorism in the 21st century.
Thursday July 7, 2005, in central London was busy as usual, with the underground and bus services working at full stretch. Just before the rush hour began to draw to a close at 8.50 a.m., three bombs hidden on underground trains detonated: the first on an underground train near Liverpool Street, the second near Edgware Road, and the third on a train as it travelled through a tunnel between King’s Cross and Russell Square. An hour later, at 9.47 a.m., there was another explosion, this time on a double-decker bus at Tavistock Square, near King’s Cross. In all, there were 26 victims at Russell Square; 13 died at Tavistock Place; seven at Aldgate; and six at Edgware Road.
The first bomb, on a Circle Line train, also damaged the Hammersmith and City Line from Liverpool Street to Aldgate East; while the second bomb, again on the Circle Line, damaged other trains as it passed by. The third bomb exploded at the rear of the first carriage in a train on the Piccadilly Line, damaging two carriages and the tunnel around it. The bomb on the bus, which was a number 30 travelling between Marble Arch and Hackney Wick, exploded as the bus took a diverted route. Ironically, people who had been evacuated from the tube had boarded the bus as an alternative method of transport.
The blast ripped off the roof of the bus and destroyed the rear section. Those at the front mostly survived, including the driver, but most of the unlucky victims at the rear were killed. In many cases, their bodies were so badly damaged that it took a long time to identify them. Since the bomb exploded near the offices of the British Medical Association, a number of doctors were on hand to provide immediate medical attention to the victims of the bus explosion.
Immediately after the underground bombs exploded, there was confusion as to what had happened. Initially, the authorities reported that there had been a power surge on the underground. Some now believe that this was an explanation designed to prevent an outbreak of mass panic on the trains, which would have resulted in chaos. Others argue that the way in which the bombs detonated caused power failures at certain points on the lines, prompting the theory that circuit breakers had come into operation as a result of a power surge. Whatever the truth, within two hours, the police admitted that the explosions were in fact the result of a major terrorist attack on central London.
Forensic examinations of the scenes of the crime yielded the information that the bombs were home-made devices using easily obtainable materials. Each of the bombs contained 4.5kg (10lb) of high explosive, using acetone peroxide. According to some reports, the bombs were placed in such a way that the explosions would form a ‘cross of fire’, centred on King’s Cross, thus symbolically representing the destruction of the Christian Western world.
Using a combination of evidence from CCTV footage and forensic evidence, police tracked the bombers down and conducted raids on houses in the Leeds area, as well as in Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire. The bombers were identified as: Hasib Hussain, Shehzad Tanweer, Mohammad Sidique Khan and Germaine Lindsay. Initially, it was confirmed that they had all died in the attacks, but it was not until later that they were said to be suicide bombers. None of them had previously been identified as violent extremists, and in most cases their families, friends and acquaintances expressed extreme shock and dismay that they had been involved in the bombings.
Three of the men were from the north of England: Mohammed Sidique Khan was from Dewsbury, where he lived with his pregnant wife and young child; Shehzad Tanweer was from Leeds, where he worked in a fish and chip shop, living with his mother and father; and Hasib Hussain was also from Leeds, and lived with his brother and sister. The fourth, Germaine Lindsay lived in Aylesbury, Buckingham, with his pregnant wife, who had converted to Islam.
The bombings took place at a significant time in Britain, while Prime Minister Tony Blair was hosting the G8 summit, and just after London had won the contract for the 2012 Olympics. In addition, there had recently been a huge Live 8 concert in London for the victims of famine in Africa. The bombings also coincided with the anniversary of race riots in the north of England, in Bradford, four years earlier, and with the beginning of the trial of a noted Islamic fundamentalist, Abu Hamza al-Masri.
One of the most troubling aspects of police response to the bombings was the shooting of an innocent man on July 22, 2005, in a case of mistaken identity. The incident occurred the day after a series of attempted bombings in the capital, and police had mounted a huge antiterror operation, hoping to catch the perpetrators before they escaped. That day, they were searching for suspects, using information obtained from unexploded packages.
The trail of clues led them to a block of apartments in Tulse Hill, where they watched the block until a young man emerged. He was a Brazilian electrician, Jean Charles de Menezes, who turned out to be entirely unconnected to terrorism of any kind. The Brazilian had come to London to earn money, hoping to return home and start a ranch with his savings. However, he bore an unfortunate passing resemblance to one of the suspects, which was never properly verified.
That day, Menezes was setting off to mend a broken fire alarm in Kilburn. As he began his journey, he was followed by several plain-clothes policemen, and after riding on a bus, he entered a tube station. Menezes sat down in a train, waiting for it to move off, but before it could do so, officers rushed onto the train, grabbed him and shot him dead. They fired a total of 11 shots into his head and shoulder, in full view of witnesses on the train.
Afterwards, the police claimed that Menezes was trying to resist arrest, but eventually they admitted this was not the case and that a tragic error had been made. The Metropolitan Police subsequently issued a full apology for the incident and the British public had mixed reactions to what had happened. Many sympathized with the need for the police to make a split-second decision, while others condemned the killing as police brutality.
Demonstrations later took place in Brazil, but as some commentators pointed out, the record for police brutality in that country was considerably worse than it was in Britain. Even so, both July 2005 bombings and the police reaction to them, in the shape of the killing of Charles de Menezes, have proved a serious threat to the capital’s reputation as a safe city in which law and order can be relied on to prevail.