A MAN goes into two mosques and slaughters 49 innocent people, old and young, men and women. That night, his name is repeated on every news station in the world. Who is he? Where did he get the guns? Why did he do it? What clues can we get from his past? This focus is understandable, but it is wrong – dangerously wrong. It skews our understanding of such atrocities and how to stop them. It is also in danger of giving the killers precisely what they want.

First of all, no killers act alone. It is not simply a matter of those helpers who actively help or at least do nothing to stop the killing. It is more that – as we have found in researching the psychology of atrocity for over two decades – atrocities such as that in Christchurch involve a combination of instigators and perpetrators: what we call ‘toxic identity leadership’ and ‘engaged followership’.

‘Toxic identity leadership’ is a matter of creating a climate in which violence becomes justified in the furtherance of a noble group cause. In this case, it takes the form of arguing that ‘our’ noble civilization is under threat by ignoble invaders (it is notable that the killer uses the same word, ‘invader’ to refer to Muslims as leaders like Orban and Trump have use to describe immigrants) and that, as white supremacist groups argue, they have come to ‘replace’ the local population. It is no coincidence that the Christchurch killer called his 74 page ‘manifesto’ ‘the great replacement’.

In some cases, such identity leadership is performed by a single individual or a small group. In the present case, the killer was not a member of any organisation, but was subject to a diffuse set of anti-Muslim influences from political leaders, the media, then brought into focus online by Nazi and supremacist organisations. It was such exposure that led to this individual becoming an ‘engaged follower’.

As he puts it in the manifesto, the killer “decided to take a stand to ensure a future for my people”. That is, he presents himself as a martyr for the cause – as a noble individual who has the qualities to do the tough things in defence of the group that others only talk about. This bears a eerie and obscene parallel to the way that Himmler described Auschwitz guards as ‘noble’ individuals willing to do the nasty work of slaughter in defence of a pure German society. The killer, that is, wants to be known for what he imagines as a service to ‘his’ people.

So, the first reason why it is problematic to focus in on the killer is that it obscures the role of leadership in instigating the slaughter. They may not have pulled the trigger, but they influenced the shooter to do so. What is more, the instigators are very happy to remain out of the limelight and to deny – as did President Trump just after the killings – that white nationalism and supremacism are a threat.

The second reason to stop plastering the name and face of the killer all over the media (and the reason we refuse to name him) is that it is exactly what he wants. It makes him a celebrity. It allows him to believe that his ‘sacrifice’ has been recognised. It confirms his martyred status. In sum, an analysis of the Christchurch tragedy in terms of the psychology of the shooter gives both the shooter and those who inspired him exactly what they want.

Let us not play their game. Let us consign the killer to obscurity. Let us concentrate on the responsibility we all have to call out anything and anyone who characterises Muslims as ‘invaders’ or just outsiders who are not full members of the community. To quote the New Zealand Prime Minister, Jacinda Ardern, many of the Christchurch victims “had chosen to make New Zealand their home, and it is their home. They are us. The person who perpetrated this violence against us is not”.

Stephen Reicher, Professor of Psychology, St. Andrews University

Alex Haslam, Professor of Psychology, University of Queensland

Jay van Bavel, Professor of Psychology, New York University