Police arrested a 28-year-old man who they say carried out the attack after he purchased 15,000 shares in the team, then bombed its bus hoping to drive the value down. Some European soccer teams are traded publicly, and police say the suspect bought shares so he could profit from a put option—a deal where the buyer can sell shares at a later date for a previously guaranteed price. The suspect, who German authorities identified only as Sergei W., stood to gain up to $4.1 million. The obvious implication of the investigative back-and-forth is that police, and the media, should stay the finger, and not be so quick to point to ISIS for every attack. Often this reaction has led to the false incrimination of someone in the area who “looks” Muslim. But the attack also suggest the European public is growing accustomed to ISIS-fueled terrorism, not only because of how quickly the Borussia Dortmund bombing was shrugged off (the team played a game one day later), but also because the suspect believed—correctly—that he could use terrorism as a smokescreen, knowing the world would default to blaming ISIS.
Similar recent attacks in London, in St. Petersburg, and in Stockholm, were also initially blamed on ISIS, only to later be downgraded to ISIS-inspired, or just perpetrated by a Muslim. In some cases, ISIS or its affiliates claim credit for the attacks, though this is sometimes found to be dubious, as it is quick to claim responsibility for most attacks. But almost immediately in each case, the media hints that ISIS is already a suspect. In The New York Times’ coverage from the day of the Borussia Dortmund bombing, the paper dropped a heavy insinuation: “Anxiety over terrorism instigated or inspired by the Islamic State and other extremist groups operating in Europe has risen steadily … ” At the time, authorities would not, nor could they, conclude who was really responsible. But the fact that people are so willing to blame ISIS and move on seems a testament to how rote terrorism has become, and that it is better to assign blame and get on with it.
In fact, the day the German authorities arrested Sergei W. on his way to work at a university hospital in the town of Tübingen, a man armed with a Kalashnikov assault rifle shot and killed a police officer in Paris, on the Champs Elysees. In an interview on Morning Edition, a reporter with NPR said: “I was out last night at a bar, working on another story, and the bartender said, ‘Hey, did you hear the news?’ And we all read our phones, then a lot of people went back, frankly, to drinking and talking about other things.”
Presumably, it was not large enough an attack to dwell upon.
Earlier this month, my colleague Julia Ioffe made this same argument, except in regards to Russians. She wrote:
Nearly three decades of their lives, beginning in the 1990s, have been punctuated by attacks. In Putin’s first term, they were a regular occurrence as he waged the second Chechen War and then years of so-called anti-terror operations in the North Caucasus. In 2002, nearly 200 people were killed when Russian special forces gassed a theater full of Russians held hostage by Chechen terrorists. In 2004, hundreds of children and teachers were killed in Beslan. That year, two female suicide bombers simultaneously brought down two passenger planes, killing about 90 people. The Moscow metro has been bombed repeatedly, as have outdoor concerts.
The implication was that terrorism stops being terrifying when it becomes almost normal. There seemed a similar reaction to the Borussia Dortmund bombing. The attack followed a standard rubric for reaction: World leaders denounce the crime, people on social media express their collective grief, in this case inviting supporters of the rival team, AS Monaco, to stay in their homes. But perhaps because no one was killed, the normal reflection period after an act of terrorism seemed almost completely bypassed.