Leaving Terrorism Behind : Individual and Collective Disengagement 2008027289, 0415776678, 0415776686, 0203884752, 9780415776677, 9780415776684, 9780203884751

Table of contents :
Cover
Title
Copyright
Contents
Foreword
Preface
List of tables
Notes on contributors
1 Introduction
PART I Processes
2 Individual disengagement: a psychological analysis
3 Processes of disengagement from violent groups of the extreme right
4 How terrorist campaigns end
5 Leaving underground organizations: a sociological analysis of the Italian case
6 Leaving terrorism behind in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country: reassessing anti-terrorist policies and the 'peace processes'
7 The renunciation of violence by Egyptian jihadi organizations
PART II Programmes
8 Exit from right-wing extremist groups: lessons from disengagement programmes in Norway, Sweden and Germany
9 Disengagement and beyond: a case study of demobilization in Colombia
10 Deradicalization and rehabilitation programmes targeting religious terrorists and extremists in the Muslim world: an overview
11 Opening up the jihadi debate: Yemen's Committee for Dialogue
12 The rehabilitation of Jemaah Islamiyah detainees in South East Asia: a preliminary assessment
13 Extremist re-education and rehabilitation in Saudi Arabia
14 Pakistan: in search of a disengagement strategy
PART III Conclusions
15 Conclusions
Notes
Index

Citation preview

Leaving Terrorism Behind

This new edited volume expands our understanding of the processes by which individuals and groups disengage from terrorism. While there has been a growing awareness of the need to understand and prevent processes of radicalization leading to terrorism, disengagement and deradicalization from terrorism have long been neglected areas in research on terrorism. This book uses empirical data to explore how and why individuals and groups disengage from terrorism, and what can be done to facilitate it. The work also presents a series of case studies of disengagement programmes from Colombia, northern Europe, Italy, Yemen, Saudi Arabia, Indonesia, Singapore and Malaysia, comparing and assessing their various strengths and weaknesses. In light of the lessons learned from these cases, this book describes and explains the potential for new developments in counterterrorism. This book will be of great interest to all students of terrorism studies, war and conflict studies, international security and politics in general, as well as professionals in the field of counter-terrorism. Tore Bjørgo is Professor at the Norwegian Police University College and Senior Researcher at the Norwegian Institute of International Affairs. He has published extensively on terrorism, racist violence, youth gangs and crime prevention, and is author of Root Causes of Terrorism (2005). John Horgan is Director of the International Center for the Study of Terrorism at The Pennsylvania State University. He is one of the world’s leading experts on terrorist psychology, and is the author of over 50 publications in the field.

Series: Political Violence Series Editors: Paul Wilkinson and David Rapoport

This book series contains sober, thoughtful and authoritative academic accounts of terrorism and political violence. Its aim is to produce a useful taxonomy of terror and violence through comparative and historical analysis in both national and international spheres. Each book discusses origins, organizational dynamics and outcomes of particular forms and expressions of political violence. Aviation Terrorism and Security Edited by Paul Wilkinson and Brian M. Jenkins Counter-Terrorist Law and Emergency Powers in the United Kingdom, 1922–2000 Laura K. Donohue The Democratic Experience and Political Violence Edited by David C. Rapoport and Leonard Weinberg Inside Terrorist Organizations Edited by David C. Rapoport The Future of Terrorism Edited by Max Taylor and John Horgan The IRA, 1968–2000 An analysis of a secret army J. Bowyer Bell Millennial Violence Past, present and future Edited by Jeffrey Kaplan Right-Wing Extremism in the Twenty-First Century Edited by Peter H. Merkl and Leonard Weinberg Terrorism Today Christopher C. Harmon

The Psychology of Terrorism John Horgan Research on Terrorism: Trends, Achievements and Failures Edited by Andrew Silke A War of Words Political violence and public debate in Israel Gerald Cromer Root Causes of Suicide Terrorism Globalization of martyrdom Edited by Ami Pedahzur Terrorism versus Democracy The liberal state response, second edition Paul Wilkinson Countering Terrorism and WMD Creating a global counter-terrorism network Edited by Peter Katona, Michael Intriligator and John Sullivan Mapping Terrorism Research State of the art, gaps and future direction Edited by Magnus Ranstorp The Ideological War on Terror World-wide strategies for counter-terrorism Edited by Anne Aldis and Graeme P. Herd The IRA and Armed Struggle Rogelio Alonso Homeland Security in the UK Future preparedness for terrorist attack since 9/11 Edited by Paul Wilkinson et al. Terrorism Today second edition Christopher C. Harmon Understanding Terrorism and Political Violence The life cycle of birth, growth, transformation, and demise Dipak K. Gupta Global Jihadism Theory and practice Jarret M. Brachman

Combating Terrorism in Northern Ireland Edited by James Dingley Leaving Terrorism Behind Individual and collective disengagement Edited by Tore Bjørgo and John Horgan

Leaving Terrorism Behind Individual and collective disengagement

Edited by Tore Bjørgo and John Horgan

First published 2009 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business Transferred to Digital Printing 2009 © 2009 Tore Bjørgo and John Horgan for selection and editorial matter; individual chapters, the contributors Typeset in Times by RefineCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Leaving terrorism behind : individual and collective disengagement / edited by Tore Bjørgo and John Horgan p. cm.—(Cass series on political violence) 1. Terrorists—Psychology—Case studies. 2. Terrorism— Psychological aspects—Case studies. 3. Terrorism—Prevention— Case studies. I. Bjørgo, Tore. II. Horgan, John, 1974– HV6431.L424 2009 363.32501′9—dc22 2008027289 ISBN10: 0–415–77667–8 (hbk) ISBN10: 0–415–77668–6 (pbk) ISBN10: 0–203–88475–2 (ebk) ISBN13: 978–0–415–77667–7 (hbk) ISBN13: 978–0–415–77668–4 (pbk) ISBN13: 978–0–203–88475–1 (ebk)

Contents

Foreword by David C. Rapoport Preface List of tables Notes on contributors 1 Introduction

ix xi xii xiii 1

TORE BJØRGO AND JOHN HORGAN

PART I

Processes 2 Individual disengagement: a psychological analysis

15 17

JOHN HORGAN

3 Processes of disengagement from violent groups of the extreme right

30

TORE BJØRGO

4 How terrorist campaigns end

49

AUDREY KURTH CRONIN

5 Leaving underground organizations: a sociological analysis of the Italian case

66

DONATELLA DELLA PORTA

6 Leaving terrorism behind in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country: reassessing anti-terrorist policies and the ‘peace processes’ ROGELIO ALONSO

88

viii Contents 7 The renunciation of violence by Egyptian jihadi organizations

113

DIAA RASHWAN

PART II

Programmes 8 Exit from right-wing extremist groups: lessons from disengagement programmes in Norway, Sweden and Germany

133

135

TORE BJØRGO, JAAP VAN DONSELAAR AND SARA GRUNENBERG

9 Disengagement and beyond: a case study of demobilization in Colombia

152

MARCELLA RIBETTI

10 Deradicalization and rehabilitation programmes targeting religious terrorists and extremists in the Muslim world: an overview

170

RICHARD BARRETT AND LAILA BOKHARI

11 Opening up the jihadi debate: Yemen’s Committee for Dialogue

181

CHRISTOPHER BOUCEK, SHAZADI BEG AND JOHN HORGAN

12 The rehabilitation of Jemaah Islamiyah detainees in South East Asia: a preliminary assessment

193

ZACHARY ABUZA

13 Extremist re-education and rehabilitation in Saudi Arabia

212

CHRISTOPHER BOUCEK

14 Pakistan: in search of a disengagement strategy

224

SHAZADI BEG AND LAILA BOKHARI

PART III

Conclusions

243

15 Conclusions

245

TORE BJØRGO AND JOHN HORGAN

Notes Index

256 299

Foreword

I am delighted that Leaving Terrorism Behind is now a part of our series on Political Violence. This volume is the only one in the series to focus on the issues of individual disengagement and/or the related one of organizational collapse. No one familiar with terrorism studies will be surprised by this unusual fact, for although the two subjects discussed here are crucial they have also been very much neglected. To begin filling this gap Tore Bjørgo and John Horgan, two prominent and widely respected scholars, have put together a fascinating clearly-written collection, one that the public and the university, and government worlds will welcome enthusiastically. Individual case studies of how particular terrorist groups dissolve have been an occasional feature of terrorist studies for two decades particularly with respect to the Italian Red Brigades and the IRA. Donatella della Porta and Rogelio Alonzo have contributed chapters here on those examples. The collection aims to show what can be learned by comparing different groups from different countries over an extended time period of almost three decades. It expands the number of the cases, includes neo-Nazi and racist terrorist groups, entities involved with narcotics trade, and an ample number drawing their inspiration from religion, especially Islam. The editors explain the theoretical implications in the examples offered. The first half of the volume discusses the tensions or contradictions of activities within a group that affect individual disengagement and collective disintegration. Although the history of modern terror shows that the number of groups that disintegrate ‘naturally’ is enormous, few have been studied; and the editors seek to supplement the material with more readily accessible information relating to the processes of disintegration in criminal gangs, religious groups and cults. The second half of the volume describes and evaluates the effectiveness of government policies designed to turn largely incarcerated terrorist elements around. The most useful have been those able to exploit existing tensions within the groups. Since the ‘conventional view’ is that religious terrorists are the most difficult terrorists to turn around, readers will be surprised to learn how useful some efforts in Muslim countries have been. A variety of Muslim examples

x

Foreword

are considered. Several achieved success, i.e. Yemen, Saudi Arabia and Egypt, although it is too early to be clear in all cases about whether those successes will be sustained. At least two Western states (Netherlands and the UK) have begun programmes based on similar assumptions. In retrospect, perhaps, we were mistaken to believe the ‘conventional view’ that religious terrorists would be so steadfast because there was evidence to the contrary. After the Soviets were expelled from Afghanistan, many volunteers returned to initiate excessively brutal campaigns in Muslim states, often in their home countries. Al-Qaeda often financed those operations but all failed, compelling al-Qaeda to change its strategy and focus on the West or the ‘far enemy’, believing that was the only way to unify Islam. Those failures devastated the assailants and helped some governments understand how they might further diminish the terrorist ardour. Clerics, group members who had abandoned the cause, relatives, alteration of sentences for those who publicly repented, inter alia, have been key elements in the transformation process. These experiences generate a series of crucial and political questions about the unwillingness of so many states to recognize that the crimes terrorists commit have a political dimension that it is in our own interest to recognize. The issue was raised in the 1970s and largely ignored. But the information this volume presents makes clear how important it is to re-open the question. David C. Rapoport Professor Emeritus, Political Science, UCLA Founding and Co-Editor, Journal of Terrorism and Political Violence

Preface

Having for many years interviewed individuals engaged in violent activism – racist and right-wing extremist groups in Scandinavia and terrorist movements in Ireland respectively – we were both initially surprised to learn that many of our informants had already disengaged from their groups. Others were in the process of doing so, or were seriously considering leaving as a result of being disillusioned, burned out or something else. We quickly came to the realization that disengagement from terrorist and other violent movements was in fact a normal and almost constant process. Given this, we were also surprised to discover just how little research had been conducted on disengagement within the terrorism research community. Scholars of terrorism had been more concerned about why people become involved with terrorism rather than how they end that involvement. In this light, it was less surprising that counter-terrorism policies in general have not made systematic efforts to exploit and reinforce these natural tendencies for individual terrorists to quit and terrorist movements to disintegrate. Comparing notes, ideas and thoughts from our separate but similar findings from rather different militant movements, we both decided after meeting in 2003 to join forces in casting new light on this important area. Our idea was to bring together an international group of scholars in order to gather the scattered research both on individual and collective disengagement from terrorism and build up a body of data for comparative analysis. This book represents the results of our first steps in helping realize that idea. As ever with such projects, multiple people deserve our gratitude. The Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs generously sponsored the book project and its accompanying workshop in London, in September 2007, in addition to the subsequent conference and workshop in New York City in April 2008. Jon Erik Strømø, Carl P. Salicath, Anita Nergård and Odd Berner Malme of the MFA have all been most helpful. Furthermore, we wish to thank the International Peace Institute and in particular Naureen Chowdhury Fink and her colleagues for their great efforts in organizing the New York conference and workshop. Last but not least, we are also extending our thanks to our co-authors for contributing their works and ideas to this international research and book project. Tore Bjørgo and John Horgan

Tables

4.1 8.1

How terrorist campaigns decline and end Diversity of investigated disengagement programmes in Germany

56 142

Notes on contributors

Editors Tore Bjørgo is Professor of Police Science at the Norwegian Police University College and Senior Research Fellow at the Norwegian Institute of International Affairs (NUPI). A social anthropologist by training (University of Oslo), he received his doctoral degree from the University of Leiden. His main fields of research have been political extremism and terrorism; racist and right-wing violence; delinquent youth gangs; disengagement from violent groups; political communication; crime prevention; and policing. He has (co)authored or (co)edited eleven books, including Political Communication (1987; 1992, in Norwegian, Danish and Swedish); Racist Violence in Europe (1993); Political Terrorism (1993, in Norwegian); Terror from the Extreme Right (1995); Racist and Right-Wing Violence in Scandinavia: Patterns, Perpetrators, and Responses (1997); Nation and Race: The Developing Euro-American Racist Subculture (1998); Violence, Racism and Youth Gangs: Prevention and Intervention (1999, in Norwegian); Generalized Hatred, Polarized Communities (2001, in Norwegian); Root Causes of Terrorism (2005); Developing Knowledge in the Police (2006, in Norwegian); and Perspectives of Police Science in Europe (2007). He was the initiator of the ‘Exit’ project to promote disengagement from racist groups in Norway, a project that was later adopted in Sweden, Finland and Germany, and has attracted interest in several other European countries. John Horgan is Director of the International Center for the Study of Terrorism at Penn State University. A Chartered Psychologist, he previously served as a Senior Research Fellow of the Centre for the Study of Terrorism and Political Violence (CSTPV) at St Andrews University, where he maintains an Honorary Research Associate position. Before moving to St Andrews, John taught at the Department of Applied Psychology, University College Cork, from which he was awarded his PhD in 2000. While at Cork, he spent several years conducting research on Irish Republican movements, and in particular published several noted articles on the fundraising activities of the Provisional IRA. He is now engaged in extensive

xiv Notes on contributors research on involvement and engagement in terrorism, and his current research projects focus on issues of disengagement and deradicalization from terrorist movements. His books include The Psychology of Terrorism (2005) and The Future of Terrorism (1999, with Max Taylor). His latest book, Walking Away from Terrorism: Accounts of Disengagement from Radical and Extremist Movements, will be published by Routledge (New York and London) in 2009, and presents detailed fieldwork interviews Horgan has conducted with former members of radical and extremist movements in several countries. He is a member of the Editorial Boards of the journals Terrorism and Political Violence, Terrorism Research, and the Journal of Investigative Psychology and Offender Profiling, is a member of the European Commission Expert Group on Violent Radicalization and is the recipient of an Airey Neave Trust Fellowship Award.

Contributing authors Zachary Abuza is Professor of Political Science at Simmons College, Boston, specializing in Southeast Asian politics and security issues. He is the author of Political Islam and Violence in Indonesia (Routledge, 2006), Conspiracy of Silence: The Insurgency in Southern Thailand and its Implications for Southeast Asian Security (forthcoming 2008), Militant Islam in Southeast Asia (Lynne Rienner, 2003) and Renovating Politics in Contemporary Vietnam (Lynne Rienner, 2001). He has also authored two studies for the National Bureau of Asian Research, entitled Funding Terrorism in Southeast Asia: The Financial Network of Al Qaeda and Jemaah Islamiya, NBR Analysis (2003) and Uncivil Islam: Muslims, Politics and Violence in Indonesia, NBR Analysis (2004). His monograph, Balik Terrorism: The Return of the Abu Sayyaf Group was published by the US Army War College’s Security Studies Institute in 2005. He is currently finishing a major study of the Moro Islamic Liberation Front. In 2005 he was a Senior Fellow at the United States Institute of Peace and in 2007 he was appointed Senior Fellow at the Jebsen Center for Counter-Terrorism Studies, The Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy, Tufts University. Rogelio Alonso, PhD, is a Lecturer in Politics and Terrorism at Rey Juan Carlos University, Madrid. He coordinates the Unit for Documentation and Analysis on Terrorism at this university, as well as its PhD and Master programme on the Analysis and Prevention of Terrorism. From 1994 to 2004 he held various positions at UK academic institutions. He lectured at the School of Economics and Politics of the University of Ulster in Belfast, and he was also a Research Fellow at the Institute of Governance, Public Policy and Social Research, as well as at the Institute of Irish Studies, both at the Queen’s University of Belfast. His publications have received various international and national awards. His most recent book, The IRA and Armed Struggle, which is based on the widest sample of

Notes on contributors

xv

personal interviews with former IRA members ever carried out, was published by Routledge in 2007. He is the author of three other books on terrorism. He has also written numerous chapters in collective books as well as articles in academic journals such as Terrorism and Political Violence as well as Studies in Conflict and Terrorism. His latest publications include several chapters on international terrorism, anti-terrorist responses in Europe as well as the radicalization processes of Salafist Jihadist. He acts as book review editor for the journal Democracy and Security and is a member of the editorial board of Studies in Conflict and Terrorism. He is a member of the European Commission Expert Group on Violent Radicalisation. Richard Barrett, OBE, is Coordinator for the Analytical Support and Sanctions Monitoring Team of the Security Council Committee for al-Qaida and the Taliban – United Nations, New York. He is responsible for a team of experts that supports the Security Council with analysis of the threat from al-Qaida and the Taliban and evaluates the implementation of the United Nations sanctions regime designed to limit their ability to mount attacks, including by making specific recommendations for improvements to the sanctions and suggesting possible new measures. He is also a member of the Secretary-General’s Task Force established to promote the implementation of the United Nations Global Counter-Terrorism Strategy (CTITF), with a particular involvement in radicalization and extremism that lead to terrorism, terrorist use of the internet, and terrorist financing. From 1975 to 2004, he worked for the United Kingdom government, where he dealt with a variety of security issues, including the threat from international terrorism. He has been posted to Amman, Jordan; New York, United States; Ankara, Turkey; and Ottawa, Canada. Shazadi Beg holds a Master’s degree in international law from Southampton University. She practised as a barrister for more than 15 years in human rights and criminal law. In 1995 she was appointed Immigration Judge and continues to sit on immigration and refugee appeals. For many years she represented the International Bar Association in Pakistan to promote the rule of law and independence of the judiciary. She co-authored a report on The Rule of Law and Human Rights in the Legal System of Pakistan. She has spoken widely on terrorism and sectarian violence in Pakistan. She is currently working on a jihadi rehabilitation and disengagement project in the NWFP. She has also worked extensively on anti-corruption projects in Pakistan, including for DFID and TI, on mutual legal assistance, a national anti-corruption strategy and corruption in the official arms trade. She led the Political Parties Convention on governance in Pakistan in 2002 and the Federal Cabinet Retreat on Ethics in 2004. She is a board member of TIRI. Laila Bokhari is a political scientist and research fellow with the Terrorism and Political Violence Project at the Norwegian Defense Research

xvi

Notes on contributors

Establishment (FFI). Her areas of research cover the phenomenon of terrorism, the study of radicalization processes, and the evolution of militant Islamism and political violence with a particular focus on Pakistan and Afghanistan. In 2007 Bokhari worked for the UN al-Qaida/Taliban Monitoring Team in New York (United Nations Security Council Subsidiary Branch). The Team supports the 1267 Committee of the Security Council, and is part of the Counter-Terrorism Implementation Task Force of the UN Global Strategy on Counter-Terrorism (2005). Previous assignments include work in the Middle East, South Asia and Europe for the European Commission, OSCE and NATO. Bokhari is a member of the Norwegian Foreign Minister’s Commission on Security Policy (Utenriksministerens Utvalg for sikkerhetspolitikk, nedrustning og internasjonale utfordringer mot norsk sikkerhet). She is member of the Advisory Board of the Pakistani Institute of Peace Studies, a member of the Global Futures Forum (GFF) working group on Radicalisation, and member of a NATO HFM Task Group on Psychosocial, Organisational and Cultural aspects of Terrorism. Christopher Boucek is a Postdoctoral Research Associate at Princeton University, where his research focuses on issues related to terrorism, security and regime stability in energy-producing countries in the Middle East and Central Asia. Before completing his PhD at the School of Oriental and African Studies (London), he was a media analyst at the Royal Embassy of Saudi Arabia in Washington, DC for nearly four years. He was previously a security editor with Jane’s Information Group and has worked with a political risk consultancy in London. He has published widely in academic and professional publications on a number of issues related to political and security developments in the Middle East and Central Asia and travels frequently throughout the region. He is also a Lecturer in Politics and Public and International Affairs at the Woodrow Wilson School, where he teaches a graduate seminar on Saudi Arabia. His current research examines recent counter-terrorism and security efforts in Saudi Arabia. Among the issues he has been working on are the rehabilitation and re-education programmes for militants and extremists in the kingdom; the reintegration of Guantanamo returnees; as well as hydrocarbon facility and border security. He will soon be returning to Saudi Arabia to continue his research on the kingdom’s rehabilitation and re-education programmes. This will include interviewing prisoners and Guantanamo returnees, and observing the rehabilitation process; thus far he is the only foreigner that the Ministry of Interior has approved to do this research. Audrey Kurth Cronin came to the US National War College from Oxford University (Nuffield College), where she was Director of Studies for the Oxford/Leverhulme Programme on the Changing Character of War. Before that, Dr Cronin was Specialist in Terrorism at the US Congressional Research Service, Library of Congress, where she advised Members in the aftermath of 9/11. Dr Cronin graduated summa cum laude from Princeton

Notes on contributors

xvii

University (Woodrow Wilson School), was a Marshall Scholar at Oxford, and then held a postdoctoral fellowship at Harvard University. She has long-standing academic and US government experience in counterterrorism, irregular warfare, strategy and policy. While on the faculty at Oxford, Dr Cronin completed a book entitled How Terrorism Ends: Lessons from the Decline and Demise of Terrorist Organizations, which will be published in 2008 by Princeton University Press. She has a long-standing interest in the question of how conflicts end and wrote her first book on the negotiations over Austria following the Second World War (Great Power Politics and the Struggle over Austria, 1945–1955). Other recent publications include ‘How Al-Qaida Ends’, International Security (Summer 2006); ‘Behind the Curve: Globalization and International Terrorism’, International Security (Winter 2002/2003); ‘Rethinking Sovereignty: American Strategy in the Age of Terrorism’, Survival (Summer 2002), and Attacking Terrorism: Elements of a Grand Strategy (Georgetown University Press, 2004). Jaap van Donselaar is a cultural anthropologist, senior lecturer at Leiden University and researcher with the Anne Frank Stichting. For many years he has been conducting research on racism, radicalism and the response to these phenomena. In 1996 Dr van Donselaar founded the Racism & Extremism Monitor (see www.monitorracisme.nl). From 2000 to 2007 he directed the Dutch Monitoring Centre on Racism and Xenophobia (DUMC), which makes reports to the European Union on a regular basis. He is a member of an expert group of the Dutch government on the issue of polarization and radicalization. Sara Grunenberg is a psychologist and graduated from the University of Amsterdam. In 2006 she was involved in the Monitoring Racism and Extremism programme at the Anne Frank House, were she conducted research into German programmes on deradicalization. She is currently working as a researcher for the anti-discrimination agency RADAR. Her research interests include discrimination as well as migration, radicalization and right-wing extremism. Donatella della Porta is Professor of Sociology in the Department of Political and Social Sciences at the European University Institute. Her main research interests concern social movements, political violence, terrorism, corruption, police and policies of public order. On these issues she has conducted investigations in Italy, France, Germany and Spain and is involved in several comparative projects on citizenship and social movements. Among her recent publications are: The Global Justice Movement (Paradigm, 2007; with Massimiliano Andretta, Lorenzo Mosca and Herbert Reiter), Globalization from Below (The University of Minnesota Press; with Abby Peterson and Herbert Reiter), The Policing of Transnational Protest (Ashgate 2006; with Manuela Caiani), Quale Europa?

xviii Notes on contributors Europeizzazione, identità e conflitti (Il Mulino, 2006); (with Mario Diani), Social Movements: an introduction (2nd edition, Blackwell, 2006; with Sidney Tarrow), Transnational Protest and Global Activism (Rowman and Littlefield, 2005); Movimenti senza protesta? (Bologna, Il Mulino, 2004; with M. Diani), Polizia e protesta (Bologna, Il Mulino, 2003; with H. Reiter); and I new global (Bologna, Il Mulino, 2003). Diaa Rashwan is the director of the Program for the Study of Islamist Movements at Al-Ahram Center for Political and Strategic Studies (ACPSS). He is the Editor-in-chief of the Guide of World Islamist Movements published annually by the ACPSS from 2006. He was also the director of the Comparative Politics Unit at the ACPSS from 2002 and the Managing Editor of the books series at the Center from 1995. He is the Director of the Egyptian Legislative Reform project at the Egyptian Organization for Human Rights with the cooperation of the European Imitative for Democracy and Human Rights from January 2007 to the present. He is currently a member of the scientific committee of Rivista di Intelligence, Centro Studi Internazionali, Rome, Italy, and the Advisory Board of the Program for the Study and Research of Terrorism at Cairo University. He was the Managing Editor of the Annual Report of The State of Religions in Egypt (ACPSS) from 1995 to 1999. He started his career as a political science researcher at the ACPSS in 1982 and he had visiting research fellowships at other centres and institutes in Japan, France and Finland. Amongst other publications, he edited The Spectrum of Islamist Movements (Verlag Hans Schiler, Berlin, 2007). Marcella Ribetti is a Senior Research Analyst at Centra Technology. She is the Project Manager for US Government-funded projects that involve the study of insurgencies, counter-insurgency strategies, and issues pertaining to the Colombian conflict and post-conflict environments. Previously, Dr Ribetti worked for the International Organization for Migration in Colombia where she created, developed and managed a tracking, monitoring and evaluation system to assess the reincorporation of demobilized AUC paramilitary forces. She has also taught classes on intra-state conflict resolution at the Universidad de Los Andes in Bogotá, Colombia. Her article ‘The unveiled motivations of violence in intra-state conflicts: the Colombian guerrillas’ was published in Small Wars and Insurgencies (18: 4, 2007). Dr Ribetti has been invited to attend numerous professional and academic conference and has given presentations on Colombian insurgents motivations and the AUC demobilization process in numerous setting including at USARSO, San Antonio (2006); the Escuela Superior de Guerra (War College), Bogotá, Colombia (2003), The Latin American Studies Association Conference (2003) and the Command and General Staff College (1998). Marcy Ribetti received a BA in Political Science and Spanish from Wake Forest University and a PhD in Government from the University of Texas at Austin.

1

Introduction Tore Bjørgo and John Horgan

‘Once a terrorist, always a terrorist.’ So goes conventional wisdom. In reality, however, most individuals involved in terrorism eventually disengage from it in one way or another. Similarly, few terrorist movements last more than a few months, in rare cases years, before coming to an end. The chapters in this book seek to explain how and why this happens and what we might be able to do in order to speed up that process. In addition, these chapters seek to answer the following questions. How and why do participants in terrorist groups decide to leave the group and the path of terrorism? Why do sometimes entire groups involved in terrorism decide to abandon this strategy and opt for non-violent courses of action? What could governments and other actors do to make this disengagement from terrorism happen – sooner rather than later, before they have caused so much violence and suffering? And why is it important and useful to promote disengagement as an element in a comprehensive anti-terrorism strategy? This chapter presents some background and context to these questions, and sets the scene for the contributions to follow.

Background If we consider the focus and scope of various counter-terrorism strategies and policies of the United Nations, the United States, the European Union, Great Britain and most other countries, there is increasing emphasis on preventing radicalization into terrorism. However, until recently, very little attention has been paid to the idea of getting terrorists to disengage from terrorism, except perhaps by the traditional means of using physical force or imprisonment. Whereas Disarmament, Demobilization and Reintegration (DDR) are considered core elements in bringing societies torn by civil war to peace and stability, these elements remain curiously absent from counterterrorism strategies. Despite this, some countries with direct experiences of terrorism have started to think and act about counter-terrorism in new and innovative ways. These countries, which have had in common growing populations of prisoners held for terrorist offences, have realized that they cannot solve their

2

Leaving Terrorism Behind

terrorist problems with force and detention alone. They have also realized that relying solely on repressive means alone may actually cause more problems than it solves. Additionally, they have understood that there needs to be a more systematic way of understanding and managing the risk of individuals re-entering the terrorist movement, and that there is a need to explore methods aimed at resocializing and reintegrating (at least some) former terrorists back into society. In turn, there is a growing realization that these repentant former terrorists may also play important roles in reducing new recruitment into terrorism. Disengagement from terrorism has been a neglected area not only in counter-terrorism policies but also in research on terrorism. This is despite the fact that disengagement remains potentially as complex a process as initial radicalization and recruitment to terrorism,1 and the issues raised by it provoke a number of interesting theoretical and empirical questions. Research-based knowledge and theoretical understanding about these processes is not only of academic value but may also provide a basis for developing more effective as well as more humane counter-terrorist policies. Furthermore, there is a great need for evaluation research on the rapid development of country-specific disengagement programmes in many regions. While some work has been conducted on the broader issues of how terrorism ends, we felt that there was an opportunity not only to engage in a critical examination of what disengagement means, but how it has emerged in different contexts and applied to very different kinds of movements. By bringing together relevant experts on disengagement, we wanted to develop case studies of disengagement from particular groups, or on particular policies (past or present) directed at facilitating disengagement from such groups. In each case study presented in this volume, it has been important to achieve a sense of the complexity, uniqueness and nuance associated with each group. If terrorism is truly a product of its own time and place, it thus follows that an effort to understand the factors that drive or facilitate disengagement for each group will necessarily be based in, or derive from, a particular context.2 Although a further objective of this volume is to achieve a sense of the lessons learned from past experiences, caution will surround any effort to over-generalize from individual case studies. The same should apply to case studies in which policy initiatives are the principal focus. While the strengths of particular policy initiatives ought to be identified, so too must the unique and context-bound limitations of these initiatives. One obvious objection to the comparative aspect of this project is that each terrorist movement, or at least each general type of terrorist movement (left-wing, right-wing, Jihadist, etc.), is unique and subsequently there is no basis for transferring what might legitimately be conceived as sui generis experiences of disengagement from one type of movement to another. A plausible hypothesis, however, is that although the political and ideological content may be very different, the social and psychological processes involved

Introduction

3

3

may well be rather similar, or at least comparable. Our empirical research across a wide range of militant movements and countries as well as our review of relevant literature later in this chapter lends support to this understanding. A basic point we are keen to assert, therefore, is that the differences that undoubtedly are there should be treated as variables for comparison rather than as obstacles to analysis. Thus, the purpose of this book is to explore the relevant processes inherent in disengagement at both individual and collective levels. In parallel, we engage in a critical examination of the existing disengagement programmes in order to discover if these programmes are informed by a realistic and evidence-based knowledge of the relevant processes. Critical distinctions How individuals become involved in terrorism has been one of the recurring core topics of terrorism research. After the London bombings in 2005, in particular, there has been an increasing political and academic interest in understanding the processes of radicalization into violent activism and terrorism, and specifically by young Muslims. More recently, deradicalization has become a new buzzword at conferences and in policy documents.4 However, having worked on these issues for a number of years, we find the lack of conceptual clarity in the emerging discourse on deradicalization striking. Deradicalization often appears to be understood as any effort aimed at preventing radicalization from taking place. There is also a lack of distinction between the cognitive and behavioural aspects of (de-)radicalization, as if holding radical views necessarily will predict expressions of radical or violent behaviour. It is also often taken for granted that changes in values precede changes in behaviour, and that we therefore first need to address people’s values before we can influence their behaviours. However, in our own research as well as in social science literature5 we have found strong evidence that the link between views and behaviour is far more complex. We have observed that individuals do not necessarily join extremist groups because they hold extremist views; they sometimes acquire extremist views because they have joined such a group for other reasons.6 When they leave terrorist or other extremist groups and behaviours, some individuals are stripped of their radical views as a consequence of having left the group rather than that being a cause for leaving. Thus, people often re-adjust their value system in order to make it in accordance with their new patterns of behaviour.7 However, there are also some individuals who distance themselves from the extremist group and its violent means, but retain their extremist views on society. In our view, it is still far more important to change violent behaviour than change radical attitudes. Thus, we believe there is much to be gained conceptually from separating the cognitive and behavioural aspects. These distinctions should also have some relevance for the way deradicalization or disengagement programmes are designed. Initially, there should be at least as

4

Leaving Terrorism Behind

much emphasis on changing behaviour and the relationship with the militant group as on changing the ideological values of the extremists. A one-sided focus on changing ideology alone (e.g. only through theological debate with Jihadis) is unlikely to work unless it is also combined with influencing their behaviour and addressing their social ties to the militant group, family members, friends and others. Some of the most successful programmes studied by our research group, e.g. in Saudi Arabia and Indonesia, have combined addressing these different dimensions of attitudes, behaviour and social ties in very creative and clever ways. More will be said about this in following chapters. Furthermore, we find it important to distinguish between individual and collective disengagement from terrorism. Individuals may decide to leave a terrorist group or end their involvement with violent activism. Groups may abandon their use of terrorist methods or end their terrorist campaign. The processes involved when individuals leave a terrorist group and break off their involvement in terrorism is not necessarily the same as when an entire terrorist organization abandons terrorism as a strategy. However, there may be a relationship between these distinctive processes at individual and collective levels. For example, if a high rate of individual disengagement (e.g. due to arrests) is offset by a similar influx of new recruits, the survival of the group is not necessarily threatened. However, if the ranks are not replenished, the resulting negative demographic balance may facilitate the group’s demise. An increasing rate of defections among individual members, for instance due to disillusionment with the group and its failure to reach its goals, may influence leaders to change to a non-violent strategy or to give up the struggle altogether. However, there are also cases when leaders of terrorist organizations have decided to abandon the path of terrorism in favour of joining a political process of negotiations – over the heads of unprepared members, as happened with the IRA during the process leading up to the 1998 ‘Good Friday Agreement’. These different processes and the relationships between them need to be more fully explored. At both individual and group levels, disengagement from terrorism may essentially be a voluntary process, an involuntary process, or something in between.8 On one extreme, militant activists have no choice but to end their involvement with terrorism. For individuals, involuntary disengagement from terrorism may happen when they are arrested or deported, separating them from their group and the militant activities. Terrorist groups may be defeated or forced to surrender when their leaders or members are killed or arrested. Effective anti-terrorist interventions provide pressure on terrorist groups and put them on the defensive. Terrorist groups and individuals are more likely to look for an exit when they feel they are losing than when they believe they can win. On the other extreme, individuals or groups may voluntarily decide to abandon the armed struggle, due to ethical, political or ideological considerations, or due to disillusionment with the group or its methods. Individual members may be arrested and offered the option of taking part in rehabilitation programmes involving some form of amnesty, as will be

Introduction

5

described in several of the following chapters. Then they may choose to be defiant and refuse to take part, or they may decide to accept the offer of participating in a programme. In Italy during the 1980s, activists arrested for terrorist offences committed while part of the Red Brigades were offered a variety of alternatives for reduced sentencing, depending on their degree of dissociation from the armed struggle and the degree of collaboration with the investigations (see chapter 5). Before moving on, we should make one final distinction here. In this volume, we speak about ‘programmes’ as a general term for describing a wide variety of policies to facilitate disengagement. Many of these are programmes in the strict sense: they have designated titles, associated organizations; they have operational budgets and procedures of operation towards set goals. This is the case for some. Others tend to have more ad hoc ways of working, sometimes through different agencies and with more loosely defined goals. This is almost certainly the case with the Indonesian ‘deradicalization programme’ (see chapter 12). Alternatively, what constitutes a ‘programme’ may essentially just be a legal framework for facilitating reduced sentencing in exchange for repentance and collaboration with the authorities, as was the case with the Italian ‘repentance programme’ (see chapter 5). Despite the heterogeneity of these initiatives, most programmes have individual (ex-)extremists as their primary target groups, and attempt to facilitate the reintegration of individual terrorists back into society. There are also programmes that adopt a more collective approach, usually in the context of entire movements laying down their weapons. This is the case with the Colombian Reincorporation Programme (see chapter 9 and several others discussed in chapter 10). However, these two approaches may be seen as the extremes of a continuum, as predominantly ‘collective’ programmes usually involve elements of individual reintegration, whereas predominantly ‘individual’ programmes sometimes make use of group sessions, bringing together individuals from the same movement (and sometimes others) facing similar experiences. What do we already know? To date, a number of studies have addressed various aspects of how individuals join and leave different types of clandestine, reclusive and stigmatized groups. Some of them have also specifically discussed violent or terrorist groups. However, the analytical interest has tended to focus on the processes of recruitment and radicalization rather than on disengagement or deradicalization. Many of the factors and processes involved in leaving terrorist organizations, religious ‘cults’, racist groups and criminal youth gangs appear strikingly similar in spite of the great differences in ideological content, background and aspirations. Thus, progress made in respective analytical approaches and in the findings from such studies can to some extent be transferred and applied to the study of terrorist groups.

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Leaving Terrorism Behind

The primary analytical inspiration for the present volume was a research tradition which focuses on group dynamics and social processes within terrorist groups, and their relationship to their social surroundings.9 There have been a number of highly relevant empirical studies in this field, in particular related to German and Italian left-wing terrorism,10 but also to terrorism in Northern Ireland and elsewhere.11 Theoretically, one of us (Tore Bjørgo) was in particular influenced by works of Wasmund,12 Crenshaw13 and Wright.14 Based on rich empirical data on the Red Army Faction (RAF) and on a strong German research tradition on terrorist careers and group dynamics, Wasmund describes in detail the various stages involved in the processes of socialization into a terrorist group, accompanied by the dissociation of existing social links, and the adoption of the reclusive group’s world-view and enemy images. He also describes the particular difficulties involved in leaving a terrorist group. Some of these factors closely parallel what activists wishing to leave racist groups face, such as the loss of identity and community, and the fear of sanctions from the group (see Bjørgo’s chapter 3 in this volume). Other obstacles, such as the fact that for a terrorist the only alternative to continued terrorist activity is a rather long term in prison, do not generally apply to most racist activists (although they do to some). Crenshaw based her study on a general model of organizational theory, Albert Hirschman’s15 seminal study Exit, Voice, and Loyalty: Responses to Decline in Firms, Organizations and States, in which he analyses the alternative choices actors face when they become dissatisfied with the organisation to which they belong. Applying Hirschman’s model to racist groups, disaffected members and activists would appear to have three basic alternatives to continued involvement: they may leave the group (either by dropping out completely or by joining or establishing an alternative group which fits them better); they may try to reform the group by criticizing its negative aspects; or they may reaffirm their dedication and loyalty to the group through increased activity. Other important work on why terrorist groups and campaigns decline include studies by Crenshaw;16 Ross and Gurr;17 Rapoport18 and Cronin.19 In his earlier book, The Psychology of Terrorism, Horgan20 was influenced to develop an analysis of the psychological and other factors that led to individual disengagement from terrorism by the work of Jamieson21 and from his own interviews with former IRA members in Northern Ireland. Jamieson interviewed imprisoned members of the Italian Red Brigades (RB), and what emerged from this, in particular from those interviews with former RB member Adriana Faranda, was a picture of a complex, gradual process of ‘dissociation’ from the movement. The unexplored process of disengagement, and the decision-making processes inherent in the dissociation of Jamieson’s interviewees, suggested the existence of a process as complex as the initial radicalization that led to involvement in the movement in the first place. However, the literature on individual disengagement remains highly underdeveloped. While important conceptual development relevant to the process

Introduction

7

22

of ‘exit’, broadly speaking, does exist, there is exceptionally little that relates to terrorism, largely due to a dearth of empirical work in the area. Disengagement from youth gangs While the terrorism literature on disengagement is sparse and underdeveloped, to say the least, the literature on criminal youth gangs provides a significant source of insight and comparison relevant to the present chapter.23 One important insight relates to the ways youth gangs fulfil functional needs of their members in terms of providing identity, community, protection, and excitement.24 Klein25 offered a powerful critique of many well-intended antigang programs, charging that they were not paying sufficient attention to the importance of understanding the group dynamics of youth gangs. As a result, these programmes have often strengthened the cohesiveness and crime rates of the gangs in question rather than weakening them. A number of studies have focused on factors involved when young criminals desist from crime and leave criminal gangs (see below). Several researchers have pointed to age as the most powerful factor.26 Other studies point to the degree of stigmatization by the surrounding community as an important factor determining whether gang members are able to leave the gang and the criminal lifestyle. The more stigmatized the gang was, the more difficult it became for gang members to be reintegrated into ‘normal’ community life.27 Decker and colleagues28 noted that even if gang members announced their decision to leave the gang, still their own gang, rival gangs, the police, as well as the community continued to treat them as gang members. Some therefore decide not to leave the gang because it seems not to be worth the effort. Decker and Lauritsen29 also found that acts of violence often had contradictory consequences in terms of gang loyalty: on the one hand, violence is a defining feature of gang life, forging the group together. On the other hand, members often want to leave the gang because of the high level of violence, especially when they themselves or close friends become victims. Decker and Lauritsen advise that such situations – especially when victims are physically separated from their gang in the setting of hospital or prison – should be used as an opportunity for intervention by the police or others to motivate such gang members to break with the gang. Vigil30 observed that most members leave the gang through a process not dissimilar to that of entering the gang – a gradual series of steps and commitments. But the process of leaving is more difficult than joining, since leaving also means turning their back on their closest friends. Because the gang has provided a source of support and friendship, Vigil argues that it is often not abandoned until a suitable substitute has been found. However, an increasing body of gang research shows that gang membership turns out to be a temporal experience for most youths involved with such groups. According to Thornberry, Huizinga and Loeber31 the large majority of gang members quit after a brief stay in the group; less than half stayed on for more than

8

Leaving Terrorism Behind

a year. Leaving the gang is also associated with a sharp drop in delinquent activity. The shorter time they had stayed in the gang, the more easily they adapted to an ordinary, non-delinquent lifestyle.32 Desistance from criminal lifestyles Although desistance from crime is an important phase in criminal careers, the criminological literature has traditionally tended to focus more on the factors causing the onset, persistence and escalation in criminal offending.33 However, desistance from crime and criminal lifestyles has attracted increasing attention from criminologists.34 A well-established finding is that involvement in criminal activities peaks during the late teens and early twenties, and then declines with age. Some criminologists explain this by the physical ageing process itself 35 or by a process of maturation which may or may not reflect physical ageing.36 Other approaches focus on changes in the life course events that accompany ageing, such as education, geographical mobility, military service, employment, marriage and parenting.37 These life course events influence ‘differential association’38 with law-violating or norm-violating peers, which is one of the strongest predictors of the onset, continuation or desistance of delinquency.39 A change away from association with criminal peers towards law-abiding significant others such as spouses and workmates impacts values, priorities and behaviour. It also activates new social control mechanisms and other rationalities concerning costs and benefits of crime. Such developmental perspectives offer more guidance on how to design policies for facilitating disengagement from crime or violent activism than pure ‘ageing out of crime’ accounts do. Together with rational choice models,40 these developmental perspectives provide insights into factors and processes that are available as the basis for potential intervention and influence. Disengagement from religious movements Another relevant body of research relates to religious ‘cults’ or ‘new religious movements’. Especially in North America, there has been a rather agitated intellectual and political debate about the alleged ‘brainwashing’ of young people who join new religious movements such as Hare Krishna, Children of God and the Unification Church (otherwise known as the ‘Moonies’). Some of those who believe in the validity of the brainwashing model have developed methods for ‘deprogramming cult victims’. Critics of this ‘anti-cult movement’ claim that coercive deprogramming used to get young people out of the new religious movements (including kidnapping, incarceration and forced sessions with quasi-professional ‘deprogrammers’ hired by concerned parents) is more akin to another kind of brainwashing than are the recruitment and re-socialization techniques used by these new religious movements themselves.41 They argue that although manipulative methods are undoubtedly used by many religious groups to obtain and keep converts, there are

Introduction

9

much more complex reasons and motives for why converts join and remain than ‘brainwashing’. These critics also emphasize that although there are serious difficulties involved in leaving some of these religious groups, there is nevertheless a large number of people who disengage voluntarily. Clearly, much of the theoretical and empirical knowledge gained on how and why people join, stay within and leave new religious movements has relevance to other types of extremist movements. This body of knowledge also provides a useful basis for facilitating processes leading to voluntary disengagement and even to finding alternatives to joining such groups in the first place. During the 1980s, a growing body of research focused on the processes involved in voluntary disengagement from new religious movements, providing insights highly relevant to the present project.42 Wright43 has described several stages in the disaffiliation process: sources of disillusionment may include a breakdown in the members’ insulation from the outside world; the development of unofficial and unregulated dyadic (i.e. love) relationships; the perceived lack of success in achieving social change; and inconsistencies between the actions of the leaders and the ideals they promote. Individuals considering departure may seek to provide additional incentives for leaving. These might include the pulls of family, a return to school, and the discovery of alternative belief systems. Strategies of leave-taking may take three distinct modes: covert (clandestine exit to avoid confrontations and disturbing inquiries), overt (openly but without fanfare, often involving some negotiating with leaders), or declarative (public and confrontational break). Social relocation is the final stage of disengagement, establishing new identities, belief structures and social relationships. The processes of transition and readjustment involve dilemmas which ex-members from ‘cults’ handle in different ways. Some feel a strong public pressure to distance themselves from their experience by telling stories of brainwashing and manipulation, and often joining oppositional movements (e.g. ‘watchdog groups’) where there are ready-made roles for them as witnesses to the horrible truth. Others arrive at the conclusion that their group experience contained a bewildering mixture of positive and negative aspects. They see that they were manipulated by the group but that they nevertheless had chosen to be there. But they also decided to leave when things started to go awry. Some ex-members from such alternative religious groups have had great benefit from participating in transition counselling groups where they could sort out their feelings and discuss the positive as well as negative aspects of their experiences.44 Disengagement from racist and right-wing movements Similarities between the experiences of individuals disengaging from religious cults and from racist groups are striking, but there are also some important differences. Cult ex-members may be subjected to psychological and religious

10

Leaving Terrorism Behind

pressure from their former group but are rarely threatened with violent reprisals. Also, defectors from racist and neo-Nazi groups are generally much more stigmatized by mainstream society, and run a greater risk of being rejected or haunted by their extremist past in social and professional contexts. As is the case with most other studies of deviant careers, more attention has been given to understanding why individuals join and remain in violent groups of the extreme right as to why and how most of them eventually leave the scenes. One interesting approach is Aho’s45 study on the process of constructing enemy images among American far-right and racist groups. Aho’s study demonstrates how these socially constructed enemy images can also be deconstructed. He shows that social encounters on the individual level with members of ‘enemy’ groups whose behaviour does not conform to the relevant stereotypes can sometimes shatter these constructs. Empathy and sympathy from other outsiders may also aid individuals to divest themselves of the enemies in their minds. Additional research which has focused on the entire process of how young people join and leave racist groups is Katrine Fangen’s study46 on Norwegian skinheads, and her later biography of a former Nazi activist.47 She applied a ‘deviant career’ perspective to analyse various stages in their biographies. Bjørgo48 made similar findings in his studies of disengagement from racist groups in Scandinavia. He also addressed how these processes could be enhanced, and initiated the Exit programmes to facilitate disengagement from neo-Nazi and right-wing extremist groups (see chapter 3 and 8 in this volume). These programmes were adopted or considered in several European countries and led to research projects on disengagement in Sweden49, Switzerland50, Germany and the Netherlands.51 Some distinctive features of the right-wing extremist scene contain important lessons for understanding disengagement. Being a participant in a neo-Nazi group often entails the development of a stigmatized identity. The group and its members are often involved in violent conflicts with opponent groups, such as militant anti-racists or youth gangs of minority ethnic backgrounds. Some (but not all) of the groups are very punitive towards members who leave the group. Sometimes defectors are persecuted by their former friends as well as by their former enemies, who may not forgive easily. Moving forward In order to generate new thinking about the issues raised in this volume, the authors were asked to address a specific type of group or policy, and were challenged to relate to the following initial questions (at least those which were relevant to their given topic): • •

What is the background and context to the individual movement and/or conflict? What does disengagement mean from this group/movement?

Introduction • • • • • • • • • • •

•

• • •

11

Which factors or circumstances will typically contribute to making an individual consider quitting terrorist activities or participation in a terrorist group? Is disengagement from terrorist activity or the group ‘difficult’ or ‘easy’ for the individuals, and what factors affect this? What are the obstacles to individual disengagement? Which factors or circumstances will typically contribute to making a group consider disengaging from terrorist activities? Related to the above questions, but more specifically, we might ask: how did disengagement initiatives come about, how did they develop, by whom were they developed and why? What are the main obstacles and practicalities encountered in past or present disengagement programmes? What is, or was, the legal basis of disengagement initiatives? To whom do disengagement initiatives apply? Are/were they aimed at fringe members only, did it exclude those who have killed, or were any participants in the terrorist campaign offered amnesty? At what point in the life cycle of the group does disengagement become an issue? And under which circumstances will disengagement have an effect on the ‘demographic balance’ of the group? Was the initiative to facilitate disengagement successful or not? What are the criteria for success or failure of disengagement programmes and how are these measured? Is merely the existence of an ‘offer’ by the State a positive development in itself, or should success be measured by such criteria as, for example, the number of members who have disengaged as a result of the programme, reduction in the size of the group, or reduction in the number of attacks or casualties, or whether it contributed to the ending of a terrorist campaign? Another important issue is to what extent the initiative may have been misused or abused. And in relation to this, what has been the reaction to the programme by various audiences (e.g. the terrorists themselves, the supportive community, victims, other government agencies, foreign governments, etc.)? Has the specific disengagement programme described been inspired by other programmes elsewhere, or at an earlier time within the same context or conflict? What, if any, are the conditions or limitations of the initiative (e.g. is an offer for amnesty or disengagement time-limited, is testimony against former colleagues a precondition, etc.)? What are the overall lessons learned and what is the basis of some potential recommendations (‘positive’ or ‘negative’ or both) that could be made?

Not all of these questions have been relevant for each and every chapter in

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Leaving Terrorism Behind

this volume (and it certainly does not represent an exhaustive list), but they represent a set of starting points for exploring these issues. What we hope to achieve by establishing some starting points such as these is a sense of the complexity both of the process of disengagement and its associated policies or programmes. Following this Introduction, the chapters of this volume are organized across two main sections, the first addressing Processes of Disengagement; the second describing and assessing Programmes of Disengagement. In Part 1: Processes, John Horgan’s chapter ‘Individual disengagement: A psychological analysis’ considers the importance of understanding individual-level issues as a precursor to the development of a multi-layer model of disengagement from terrorism. Based on interviews with active as well as former activists, Tore Bjørgo addresses ‘Processes of disengagement from violent groups of the extreme right’ involved in violence or acts of terrorism. The main task, he argues, is to explore the experiences and circumstances which motivate individuals to quit, and what obstacles are there to leaving the group. In Audrey Kurth Cronin’s chapter, ‘How terrorist campaigns end’, we move on to a comparative approach to understanding disengagement at the collective level. By using past experience to understand these processes of how terrorist organizations decline, Cronin argues that policy-makers may, with an eye to the end, be better equipped to effectively manage current threats. Donatella della Porta’s chapter, ‘Leaving Underground Organizations: A sociological analysis of the Italian case’ describes the disintegration of leftwing groups involved with terrorism. Rogelio Alonso considers ‘Leaving terrorism behind in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country: reassessing anti-terrorist policies and the “peace processes”.’ This chapter examines how certain strategic and organizational factors motivated the IRA to abandon terrorism while ETA has maintained its commitment to its terrorist campaign. Diaa Rashwan’s case study on ‘The renunciation of violence by Egyptian Jihadi organisations’ describes two unique and important cases of collective disengagement from Jihadi terrorism in Egypt. Having transitioned from extremist, violent brands of Islamism to become more moderate sociopolitical movements, tens of thousands of activists involved with two former terrorist movements have been released from Egyptian prisons during the last decade. The chapter explains how and why these dramatic changes took place. In Part II: Programmes, Tore Bjørgo, Jaap van Donselaar and Sara Grunenberg present the first in a series of chapters looking at the growing number of disengagement programmes currently under development. In ‘Exit from right-wing extremist groups: Lessons from disengagement programmes in Norway, Sweden and Germany’, the authors describe, compare and discuss governmental and NGO programmes targeting neo-Nazis in these three countries.

Introduction

13

In Marcella Ribetti’s chapter ‘Disengagement and beyond: A case study of demobilization in Colombia’, she uses the example of this terrorism-torn country to argue that disengagement can be an effective strategy only under very specific circumstances. Laila Bokhari and Richard Barrett provide a brief overview of ‘Deradicalization and rehabilitation programmes targeting religious terrorists and extremists in the Muslim world’. Examples covered in this chapter include Yemen, Afghanistan, the Philippines, Tajikistan, Indonesia, Singapore, Egypt, Morocco and Saudi Arabia. Three of the volume’s contributors, Christopher Boucek, Shazadi Beg and John Horgan, come together to collaborate on the next chapter, ‘Opening up the Jihadi debate: Yemen’s Committee for Dialogue’. Here, the authors examine what is possibly the best-known programme aimed at promoting disengagement from terrorist activity. Zachary Abuza’s chapter, ‘The rehabilitation of Jemaah Islamiyah detainees in South East Asia: A preliminary assessment’, focuses on the programme of deradicalizing individual JI detainees in Singapore, Indonesia Malaysia, which are all modelled on the Yemeni Committee for Dialogue. In Christopher Boucek’s chapter on ‘Extremist re-education and rehabilitation in Saudi Arabia’, he describes one of the most innovative and comprehensive programmes of its kind. The Saudi Arabian government has been engaged in an ambitious strategy to combat violent Islamist extremist sympathies through a prisoner re-education and rehabilitation programme. Shazadi Beg and Laila Bokhari’s chapter addresses ‘Pakistan: In search of a disengagement strategy’. Beg and Bokhari ask what is it about Pakistan that makes it of particular importance in terms of reducing Jihadi terrorism? Their chapter focuses on the urgent need to develop a disengagement strategy in Pakistan. Part III: Conclusions, contains the final chapter. Here, the editors, Tore Bjørgo and John Horgan, bring together the main ideas and findings of this volume. They also discuss lessons learned from the various disengagement programmes described and assessed in the volume, addressing the potential and usefulness as well as the limitations and problems of promoting disengagement as part of a policy package against terrorism. Finally, the editors propose an agenda for further research and practice.

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Part I

Processes

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2

Individual disengagement A psychological analysis John Horgan

Introduction As noted in the Introduction to this volume, a concern of the authors of this project has been the slow pace with which the academic terrorism studies community has engaged in research on how and why terrorism ends. Except for a handful of studies in the 1980s and 1990s,1 the subject of disengagement from terrorism has escaped systematic analysis. Consequently, there has been virtually no conceptual development in the area,2 and unsurprisingly little by way of data-driven analysis to inform the development of practical interventions, whether aimed at facilitating disengagement or controlling initial involvement in the first place.3 This is especially ironic given that it may well be that in understanding disengagement, more practical roles for academic researchers in counter-terrorism may become more apparent in their development and feasible in their execution. This lack of attention to disengagement is all the more confusing given the increased availability of disengaged individuals and movements in several regions. In Northern Ireland, with the advancement of the Peace Process, there has never been a better time to gain access to individuals who once engaged in violent terrorist activity. Individuals who once shrouded every detail of their lives in secrecy are willing to engage researchers on some of the thorniest questions relating to their former terrorist lives.4 Weblogs and Internet forums increasingly contain contributions by former terrorists determined to speak out against their former comrades and leaders, and, in some cases, to share their own opinions about what should be done to prevent future involvement in the groups from which they have turned. There are even think tanks helmed by former members of radical and extremist movements, eager to forge a role in countering extremism, armed with the legitimacy of having ‘been involved’.5 Furthermore, dozens (and increasing numbers) of former terrorists around the world have written revealing and often insightful autobiographies, and though we should be mindful of the limitations of these, that we have not subjected their content to even the most basic of structured qualitative analysis represents a worrying gap in our knowledge. Over twenty years ago, Bonnie Cordes6 argued that we should pay more

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Leaving Terrorism Behind

attention to what terrorists say about themselves and others. Yet we failed to do so, and we continue to pay the price for this unsatisfactory state of affairs. Despite the opportunities available to researchers, therefore, we know little about the processes of disengagement from terrorism, and even less about the multiplicity of routes via which individual terrorists come to leave terrorism behind. For many of the conclusions I came to in a 2003 article on disengagement7 I have been unable to find counterarguments and alternative hypotheses to consider, a result of there being such little attention paid to this important area. Why has this been the case? Sociologist James Dingley8 suggested that the reason for the lacunae is a short-sightedness in the academic terrorism studies community. This is led, he suggests, by the idea that once a terrorist movement is inactive it is unworthy of continued study, and consequently, we tend to ignore it. If Dingley is correct, this does little to counter the belief of those who would criticize terrorism studies for having a blinkered, narrow focus that reflects a day-to-day preoccupation with contemporary threats only as they pose a threat to the current regime. We are faced with the uncomfortable question of what is it that determines the direction and concerns of our research: narrow, short-term practical interests, or longer-term concerns about redressing the gaping holes in our understanding (that may, if addressed, better equip us to meet the challenges posed by those same short-term issues in the future)?9

Individual disengagement This chapter describes some of the issues relevant to constructing a psychological perspective on disengagement from terrorism. While it would be analytically misleading to characterize initial, sustained and decreasing involvement in terrorism as anything but a group process,10 thinking about individual issues represents an important step in working towards a comprehensive, multi-level model that describes the properties of the disengagement process. Such a model, if effective, would integrate individual, group, network, organizational, social movement and cultural levels of analysis and provide a solid foundation from which policy interventions could begin to be developed. The challenge of analytical integration has long been recognized,11 but with the study of terrorism now effectively spreading into hitherto estranged disciplines, this may be more possible than ever before. Furthermore, and given the preoccupation with discovering the process of how and why individuals become involved in terrorism in the first place (when so many, faced with the same choices and opportunities, do not), it would be ironic if more recent attempts to examine the process of disengagement may serve to meet this challenge more effectively. The variety of backgrounds and perspectives assembled in this volume is a testament to this being a realistic possibility. Before we can reach that point, however, the need for a fully developed individual perspective is increasingly critical. After all, and despite the global consequences of terrorist activity, one of the enduring features of

Individual disengagement

19

terrorism is that it remains low-volume, and perpetrated (at least directly) by relatively low numbers of individuals. This chapter seeks to provide a series of possible starting points. In working towards this, we face multiple challenges. An unwelcome development since the events of 11 September 2001, is what appears to be increasing confusion about what involvement in terrorism means.12 In some countries, this is a clear consequence of poorly conceived and sloppily executed legislation, rushed through in the dramatic wake of high-profile terrorist attacks. Several recent cases in the United Kingdom have seen dozens of people imprisoned on charges of incitement, through the possession of ‘terrorist documentation’. At the heart of many such cases is an inference that possession of this kind of material is indicative of intent to engage in violent activity. Given the underdeveloped state of knowledge on terrorist risk assessment, this remains a tenuous link at best, and with even more recent developments in the UK seeing the overruling on appeal of hitherto ‘key’ convictions, it appears that there will need to be some fundamental rethinking of the relationship between these issues. For our immediate purposes here, however, we would do well to remain open to the fact that what constitutes not only involvement in terrorism, but also disengagement from it, should be approached with rigorous analytic scrutiny. Just as involvement in terrorism may take multiple forms and expressions, so too will disengagement, and related to this, as we will see at the end of this chapter, deradicalization (and all that that assumes) may not even feature in the disengagement process for many, if not most, of the relevant individuals under examination. To illustrate the underlying properties of disengagement, we have a number of data sources at our disposal, waiting for investigation. As indicated earlier, autobiographies written by former terrorists, communiqués, statements by movements, contributions on Internet discussions – all of these and more represent valuable data sources from which we may develop some preliminary hypotheses. There will be obvious limitations to some of these. While dozens of autobiographies of former terrorists exist, there are also increasing examples of accounts by those whose involvement and engagement amounts, upon closer inspection, to little more than peripheral activity. This does not mean we should discount them, but we ought to realize their limitations and the possibility that some, to paraphrase a sentiment expressed by Walter Reich13 about analyses of terrorism, may have little sense of the confines of their explanations. There is a new-found credibility in being an ‘ex-terrorist’, which in some cases has led to bitter recriminations and acrimony as a result of unrealistic expectations about what ‘ex-terrorists’ are assumed to be like. Walid Shoebat, a self-proclaimed former Palestinian terrorist, was invited in early 2008 to speak to an audience of US Air Force cadets in Colorado. Shoebat was invited with two other former terrorists, Kamal Saleem and Zak Anani, to help cadets understand the ‘Islamic fundamentalist mindset’. What followed, according to multiple news reports, was a sustained outcry that Shoebat did nothing more than stir up anti-Muslim sentiment in an

20

Leaving Terrorism Behind

attempt to confer self-legitimacy.14 In Indonesia, Mohammed Nasir Bin Abbas, a former member of the movement responsible for the Bali bombing of October 2002, regularly meets with the world’s press to tell the story of his disengagement from Jemaah Islamiyah. And many former terrorists still imprisoned for their crimes will communicate with researchers either through visits or correspondence. Some of the more dramatic and well-publicized examples aside, however, it is possible to meet with and speak to former terrorists from a variety of movements about their experiences. Though a thorough discussion around fieldwork on terrorists and their movements is lacking, it is one the research community will soon need to address.15 Why individuals disengage from terrorism To move the discussion forward, let us identify some starting points. In thinking about disengagement from terrorism, questions we need to answer include: a b c d

What does disengagement mean? (e.g. does it mean ‘leaving’ or simply moving into a different kind of role?) Why do people leave? (e.g. is it a voluntary or involuntary process? What are the principal driving factors in this?) What happens to people who leave terrorism? (e.g. where do they go and what do they do?) How do we know that someone has actually disengaged? (e.g. what kind of assessment can be done to ascertain the risk of someone ‘re-engaging’?)

Disengaging might suggest critical cognitive and social changes, in terms of leaving behind the shared social norms, values, attitudes, relationships and social networks so carefully forged while the individual was still a member of a terrorist network. This is the kind of expectation one might have of a terrorist who is seen to have a complete ‘split’ from the movement. On the other hand, disengagement might occur in a more nuanced manner, expressed as a more discrete role-specific process. In other words, a terrorist may disengage from his or her involvement in a specific role or function, but remain involved in the broader movement by engaging in some activity that is beneficial in some way to the movement. In other words, while they may disengage, they may not necessarily have left. Des Mackin was a former IRA member who later became the treasurer for the IRA’s political wing, Sinn Fein. After leaving this role, he became a successful businessman, running a multi-million-dollar security and pub trade, but remained closely ‘tied into the party’s politics’.16 Even the smallest of terrorist networks will have multiple roles and functions to be fulfilled, and in some cases, an individual may be expected to simultaneously occupy more than one of those. For some, therefore, there may well be a continued adherence to these values and attitudes, and the individual ex-terrorist may actually still engage in some other

Individual disengagement

21

socially relevant ‘support’ behaviour despite not being involved in any actual terrorist operations. Subversion may take the place of terrorism. As a preface to further developing these points, we should consider insights from other areas on which research has illuminated some of these basic issues. Garfinkel17 outlined factors involved in the psychological transformation from involvement in violence to non-violent activity. She conducted a series of telephone interviews with former members of militant groups (in Nigeria, Israel, Kashmir, Lebanon and elsewhere), all of whom are ‘now working for peaceful change’ (p.3). Garfinkel describes this transformation as taking place against a backdrop of vulnerability, catalyzed by stress, crisis and trauma. She describes how some interviewees (religious extremists in particular) underwent ‘a reorientation in outlook and direction’. A key factor in the transformation, Garfinkel notes, was the role played by personal relationships: ‘change often hinges on a relationship with a mentor or friend who supports and affirms peaceful behavior’ (p. 1). In another study, Ebaugh18 examined 185 accounts of people who underwent significant role change. Her sample comprised ex-convicts, ex-alcoholics, ex-doctors, ex-nuns, and others who experienced voluntary ‘role exit processes’. Recurring themes between these diverse cases included: a sense of disillusionment with the individual’s current persona or identity; an attempt to identify and locate an alternative, more satisfactory role; the existence of particular triggering factors that facilitate final decisions to leave the role; to finally, then, the creation of a new identity as an ‘ex-’. Though, for reasons outlined earlier, we lack the empirical data to inform a model of terrorist disengagement, we can develop some principles that are consistent with the processes described here. Factors affecting individual disengagement might be considered ‘psychological’ (e.g. disillusionment) or ‘physical’ (e.g. role change). Furthermore, while physical change might bring with it subsequent psychological change, the latter might serve as a catalyst for the former (e.g. seeking out involvement in a less ‘stressful’ role). Also, expressions of both psychological and physical disengagement might be experienced as either voluntary (e.g. stemming from some personal decision the individual has made to leave) or involuntary (e.g. an individual is forced to leave in the face of some external issue). And further complicating matters, it might be difficult to treat as distinct issues to do with disengaging from factors that sustain involvement: someone might ostensibly remain involved in a terrorist movement because disengagement avenues are not perceived to be available or open to them. Psychological disengagement Factors contributing to psychological disengagement include: 1

Disillusionment arising from incongruence between the initial ideals and fantasies that shaped a person’s initial involvement and their subsequent

22

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2 3 4 5

experiences with the reality of what is entailed by involvement – in other words, the mismatch between the fantasy and the reality;19 Disillusionment arising from disagreement over tactical issues; Disillusionment arising from strategic, political or ideological differences; Becoming burned out; Changing personal priorities.

The seeds of disappointment and disillusionment may take many forms, and emerge in some cases very early in the development of the person’s involvement. Patrizio Peci, the Italian Red Brigadist, reported that his disillusionment actually came from the very first dinner meeting with his new superior. As Peci was eating, his superior took off his shoes and socks and began picking at his dirty toenails: I was already sad when Fiore, who wolfed down his food, finished before I did. I kept on eating. He settled down to watch television. I kept on eating. He put his feet, those enormous feet, on the table and then, suddenly he took off his shoes, without even undoing the laces. There was a horrible stench. But the worst was yet to come. He took off his socks as well; he grabbed the bread knife, one of those long, serrated knives and began to pry off the filth from between his toes with the point of the knife. Zap! And off came the filth from between two toes. He was very adept. Zap! Zap! Zap! Zap! What kind of manners are these? I said nothing and I tried to minimize things in my mind. ‘They are just little things, nothing’ I thought, but I was worried. ‘If everybody behaves like this, how will I be able to live among them?’ (p. 11)20 A common realization for new recruits is the crushing disparity between the fantasies that moulded their initial search for a place in the movement, with the subsequent reality of involvement. The shattering of the romantic dream is a theme found in accounts from many movements. It is frequently revealed in accounts of the behaviour of peers that the individual once respected. Eamon Collins,21 the IRA Intelligence Officer murdered as a result of testifying against a former IRA leader, recalls a pivotal event in his experiences in the IRA: On the news that night I was delighted to witness the impact that the bomb had made on the town. A local Catholic politician was interviewed. He said that the bomb had torn the heart out of Warrenpoint. I was pleased to listen to him confirming my analysis. Then the hotel owner came on. He claimed that the IRA team had rifled the hotel’s till and stuffed their pockets with money before leaving. I thought he was talking nonsense: I could not believe that the team would have done something like that in the middle of an operation. When I next saw Mickey I told him what the hotel owner had said. Mickey looked a little

Individual disengagement

23

embarrassed. He said: ‘It’s true. Hardbap robbed the tills.’ . . . I felt that Hardbap’s behaviour had taken the shine off the operation and had made the IRA look like common criminals . . . My romantic image of the IRA soldier was receiving its first hard knock. (p. 103) Omar Nasiri,22 the former al-Qaeda member, recalls how he realized just how much al-Qaeda relied on preserving myths to enhance its credibility. He recalls a meeting with the London-based Abu Hamza: Abu Hamza looked at me with his one good eye as we were introduced. ‘Masha
Allah, brother,’ he said. ‘Can you meet me in the office after prayers?’ ‘Of course,’ I told him. When prayers were finished I stood outside the office on the first floor of the Finsbury Park mosque in north London . . . Hamza asked me which of the camps in Afghanistan I had been in, and I told him . . . ‘I met someone you know,’ I said in a conspiratorial voice. Hamza raised his brow just slightly. ‘I trained with Assad Allah,’ I told him. ‘He told me about the nitroglycerine, and how you lost your hands.’ Hamza looked away. ‘Brother,’ he whispered, not meeting my gaze, ‘please don’t share that story with anyone.’ As I was to learn later, Hamza claimed he had lost his hands defusing a landmine on the front lines in Afghanistan. I knew the real story. The implications of this disparity for the development of psychological operations to disrupt and undermine the existing commitment of members, as well as pre-empting the flow of recruits to the movement in the first place, should not be lost. A tactical issue, in combination with tension in the relationship with the leaders, lay at the heart of the high-profile disengagement of Mohammed Nasir Bin Abbas from Jemaah Islamiyah (JI). Abbas was chief of JI’s ‘Mantiki III’, the movement’s military training section. Abbas trained those who would become the bombers of the nightclub in Bali in October 2002. Though comfortable with the strategic objectives of Jemaah Islamiyah, and with the struggle to overthrow Jakarta’s government in an attempt to impose Sharia law in Indonesia, efforts to deliberately target civilian non-combatants proved a step too far for Abbas. He subsequently turned against his former mentor, Abu Bakar Ba’asyir, testifying against him in court.23 As is often the case, however, it is unlikely that very specific factors exist in isolation from one another. Sean O’Callaghan, the former IRA commander, turned against the IRA, becoming the movement’s most high-ranking and devastating informer.24 The catalyst for his initial disengagement came from a sectarian remark made by his former colleague, Kevin McKenna, an individual O’Callaghan looked up to in the movement. A female police officer had been killed in a bombing, and McKenna reported to O’Callaghan, ‘we might get two for the price of one’,25 implying that McKenna hoped she was pregnant. Though O’Callaghan’s commitment to the IRA by this point was

24

Leaving Terrorism Behind

beginning to wane, this moment was recalled with great significance in his decision to leave the movement. O’Callaghan recalls the shock in realizing the disparity between his romantic ideals, forged through distant heroic tales of running gun battles: I had some doubts in East Tyrone about whether we were fighting a sectarian war or we were fighting a war against Britain. Look, in retrospect maybe some of the doubts could be answered, do you know what I mean? But I was caught in a very localised, kind of almost a defender situation. So I wanted to attack British army patrols and the guys wanted to shoot the local UDR down the road. That doesn’t make them any better or any worse than me, I’m not saying that, I’m just saying that was their focus, that was their war and that’s how they seen it. Me coming from Kerry, I wanted to attack the British army, that’s what I wanted to do and so I had doubts.26 O’Callaghan’s case is long and complex. By the time this event took place, he was, he suspects, burned out, and his first move (a temporary departure from the movement) was certainly catalyzed by his experiences with McKenna on that day. In addition to the point made above about psychological operations in counter-terrorism, we ought to recognize from this example the need to consider as distinct attempts aimed at limiting and controlling the flow of recruits from outside the operational theatre from those who emerge from within that region. The need to consider the development of different preventative implications would seem clear. In conclusion, it is not uncommon for change in personal priorities to catalyze a crisis for the individual. One former IRA member reported that it was not until he spent some time away from his movement that he wondered about where his life was going and what would be left for him once his role in the struggle had ended.27 The individual may long for a social and psychological state (real or imaginary) felt to be lacking, or that existed before membership. The effects of prolonged involvement in an underground movement can have devastating psychological consequences for the individual’s psychological well-being. Physical disengagement A different set of factors relates to issues we could characterize as physical in nature. To preface this, we should acknowledge why ‘disengagement’ is a more appropriate term than ‘leaving’. Disengagement does not necessarily imply that the individual leaves terrorism behind – they may simply move from one role into another. As above, terrorists may stop being terrorists but may continue to engage in subversive activity that is no less significant in the pursuit of the movement’s objectives. The reality of one’s progression within

Individual disengagement

25

a terrorist movement is a dynamic process of migration from one role to another (not all of which are necessarily illegal roles at that). Occupying a different role or function within the broader movement is, in one sense, a kind of disengagement. During terrorist ceasefires, disengagement becomes apparent in terms of role change in that one-time ‘front line’ members will be put to work on different kinds of activities by their leadership. This serves a number of purposes (see the detailed discussion in earlier work)28 but also reflects a leadership concern to keep a sense of focus and direction for followers in order to avoid organizational drift, an issue highlighted memorably by revolutionary theorist Regis Debray.29 In many ways, reasons for physical disengagement are easier to identify. Relevant disengagement behaviours and their antecedents might be thought of as physical where there is a change in the role of an individual terrorist. This might entail a move away from opportunities to engage in violent behaviour, but this move may or may not necessarily result in a lessening of commitment to the group. Moving from direct action to involvement in an ancillary function (e.g. storing weapons, moving weapons, assembling IEDs) is a common occurrence, and sometimes the individual may move back into their original role. The factors influencing this may be internal (e.g. organizational reshuffling) or external (e.g. avoiding surveillance or suspicion of security services). Physical disengagement may be expressed as, and owing to: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Voluntary exit from the movement Involuntary exit from the movement Involuntary movement into another role Voluntary movement into another role Involuntary exit from the movement altogether Experiences stemming from psychological disengagement that act as a catalyst for physical disengagement across factors 1 to 4 above.

Arrest, imprisonment, and obviously death, represent the most dramatic kinds of physical disengagement. While a terrorist may voluntarily exit from the movement (e.g. surrendering to the authorities), less rare are examples of involuntary physical disengagement (i.e. when someone is physically removed from the movement against their will). For some, prison represents an escape from the movement. One former right-wing extremist bomber reported: ‘prison was the best thing to ever happen to me’.30 Unable to disengage through other means, prison offered this person the physical and psychological space to disengage on his own terms. However, for many Republican and Loyalist terrorist prisoners in Northern Ireland, imprisonment by no means marked the end of involvement. Though the IRA would often tell would-be recruits that the only life awaiting potential members was spending a long time in prison, or ending up dead, the movement saw to it that imprisonment carried with it opportunities for

26

Leaving Terrorism Behind

continued involvement and engagement. Complete with localized command structures, movement-specific prison wings, and with key prisoners’ rights gained in the wake of the hunger strikes of 1981, there are several examples of imprisoned IRA terrorists who became significant political figures as a result of ongoing political radicalization and ‘training’ within the prison system. Involuntary disengagement, through arrest and imprisonment, was often the catalyst for the development of a substituted role within the movement. Sometimes, a member may be asked to step into another role. This might result from ‘staff shortages’, a temporary ceasefire, or from a leadership decision to place a member under internal surveillance for a host of reasons.31 Sometimes a member may be attracting unwanted attention from the security services, and the leadership may decide to move that individual into another role or function. Additionally, a member may be forced to move into another role as a result of disobeying orders, or by sanctioning activity that was not approved by the overall leadership. The former Director of Operations for the IRA’s Southern Command was shot in the ankle and removed from his position as a result of his sanctioning a shooting operation that led to severe public pressure being put on the IRA.32 There are cases, of course, where at the very least the member may be ostracized, but it is not uncommon to have outright execution. Members who are found to have engaged in improper use of arms or money can expect death as the most severe form of dismissal from the movement. Other changes that may be put in place by the terrorist leadership may have their origins in external events. An example is a heavier emphasis on political activity in the months approaching an election. In simple practical terms, this might involve an active terrorist engaging in distributing posters or helping to organize political rallies. Changes in the terrorist’s personal life may also entail a change or roles. Getting married or having children may see the individual moving into a different kind of role where the commitment qualities may be different. But perhaps the crucial difference between physical and psychological disengagement in this sense is that in some cases where an individual voluntarily or involuntarily moves from one role into another, they may still continue to engage in ‘terrorism’-related activities, but not necessarily play a direct role in terrorist ‘events’ per se. Naturally, it may well be a psychological issue that lies at the heart of this migration. If someone becomes burned out, the leadership may decide that they are more effective to the movement in another role. Additionally, feedback from engaging in a particular kind of activity may lead to the personal realization that the individual would himself or herself be better off in another role. As revealed in dramatic and graphic detail by several former terrorists,33 the reality of what it feels like to murder someone cannot be known about or planned for until the member actually takes part in the operation. Their experiences, both during and after the event, and the

Individual disengagement

27

particular context in which that feedback is experienced and worked through, may heavily determine the likelihood of the individual terrorist’s ability to continue in that particular role or function. Thinking about disengagement factors in this way offers us some very useful starting points. It is probably obvious by now, however, that while it is analytically useful to delineate these issues, the reality of individual accounts (only brief excerpts from which are presented here) is such that physical, psychological, voluntary and involuntary issues and experiences can combine even within one individual case to characterize the true complexity of one person’s disengagement experiences. The reasons for disengagement can be numerous, conflicting, competing and exceptionally complex even within a single case. Indeed it is the case for many individuals engaged in terrorism that disengagement is as complex as the process that characterizes how they become involved in terrorism in the first place. In attempting to find easy answers that may guide the development of interventions, the reality of accounts of disengagement, whether from autobiographical accounts or interviews with terrorists in the field, is that it is often immensely difficult to disentangle a variety of competing influences that come together to push and pull an individual away from the life he once was so seemingly engaged to.

Disengagement or deradicalization? The factors described here, argued to lie at the heart of the disengagement process, ought to be put into the context of broader discussions that stem from the work presented in this volume. We have argued that there needs to be greater conceptual clarity around the terminology and concepts we have yet to fully develop. Even a cursory examination of accounts suggests that the pathway to disengagement may not necessarily be the same for everyone, nor are the qualities of that disengagement process as experienced by the individual the same for each person. Consequently, the disengaged terrorist may not necessarily be repentant or ‘deradicalized’ at all. Often physical disengagement may not result in any concomitant change or reduction in ideological support or, indeed, the social and psychological control that the particular ideology exerts on the individual. This issue is very significant, and exploring its implications may well represent the start of a more realistic and comprehensive policy-based exploration of what kinds of challenges disengagement programmes may need to face. It also raises some serious issues in relation to how risk and danger are conceptualized in this context. In fact, in the sample of former terrorists I interviewed from 2006 to 2008, while almost all of the interviewees could be described as disengaged, the vast majority of them could not be said to be ‘deradicalized’. Moving beyond the confusion brought about by the potentially misleading term deradicalization, there are more promising avenues we must consider. The promotion of disengagement (in whatever way, and at whatever level)

28

Leaving Terrorism Behind

will have to be tailor-made to not only the specific movement in question, but also perhaps to the specific role or individual being targeted by the security services. In addition, attempts to promote disengagement will need to be carefully designed within the context of the specific sociopolitical or other issues experienced by the movement and opposing regime at any particular moment in time. But there is no clear evidence to suggest that disengagement from terrorism may necessarily bring with it deradicalization, nor (and perhaps more controversially) is there clear evidence to support the argument that deradicalization is a necessary accompaniment to disengagement. For this and other reasons, particularly the growth of the diverse programmes addressed in other chapters here, it may be worthwhile to seek greater conceptual clarity between the two. At the heart of moving this discussion forward will be a necessary exploration of how we might develop risk-assessment frameworks for understanding the significance of the properties underpinning initial and sustained involvement in terrorism, engagement in terrorist activity, and disengagement. A key issue, and one that remains poorly understood, is the complex matter of when a terrorist is no longer ‘at risk’ of engaging in terrorist activity. Though the issue of risk assessment of terrorist prisoners is critical and urgent, there is both a lack of knowledge about the basic underlying issues and consequently a lack of clear guidelines to help guide practice in the management of imprisoned terrorists and the mitigation of the accompanying hazards and threats.34

Conclusions To improve our scientific understanding of these issues with a view to providing an evidence-supported base for the development of policy efforts, there is a critical need to identify and collect data that would inform and develop our knowledge on individual disengagement from terrorism. Though it was made explicit at the beginning of this chapter that terrorism will remain a group process, what we currently know about the process of individual disengagement is probably best characterized by a series of idiosyncratic, complex accounts that on the surface appear diverse and unconnected. However, where significant differences exist in terms of ideological content, backgrounds, aims and aspirations, comparative analyses will likely reveal valuable similarities in patterns and process. If fully investigated, these are likely to be of significant value in the development of fresher, more productive initiatives aimed both at facilitating and promoting disengagement from terrorism, as well as having critical implications for controlling the extent of initial involvement in the first place. This chapter is less about deradicalization than it is about highlighting some of the issues relevant to the disengagement phase of involvement in terrorism. Two important points need to be reiterated: while disengagement does not necessarily imply deradicalization, we remain unclear about the

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significance of deradicalization (as conceptualized by current initiatives and policies both formal and informal) for attempts at understanding the risk of ‘re-engagement’ and involvement in possible future terrorist activity for the individual. Future discussions about the management of terrorist offenders both in prison settings and in operational theatres will need to explicitly address these issues and others related to risk assessment and the terrorist. Central to these issues is the need to understand the complex relationship between attitudes, beliefs and behaviour. This is an area in which psychology has offered significant research, but these issues remain complex even in nonterrorism contexts. In a similar vein, it would be most prudent to reserve judgement about the effectiveness of deradicalization initiatives until we have employed tried and tested efforts to evaluate their progress and success. But we should end on a very positive note. One issue is clear: the opportunities afforded to practical counter-terrorism are worth careful consideration here. In particular, identifying the reasons individuals come to disengage from terrorism, as well as how they do this, may have significant potential in the development of strategies aimed at identifying vulnerabilities in terrorist networks. Once developed, these could: a

b

c

Limit and control initial involvement in terrorism (as well as undermine support) by making known the nature of the incongruence inherent in accounts of disillusionment by former members; Undermine what would otherwise appear to be ‘hard-core’ membership (i.e. pre-existing members engaged in particular roles and functions) via the same dynamics; Promote and facilitate disengagement at particular junctures (both rolespecific and phase-specific) at all levels of the terrorist movement.

Each of these interventions, as part of a comprehensive and systematic effort to develop psychological operations in counter-terrorism, would benefit greatly from a closer consideration of how and why individual terrorists disengage. Perhaps for this reason, the argument that a terrorist movement or individual is irrelevant and undeserving of serious study once no longer involved and engaged should be put to rest once and for all.

3

Processes of disengagement from violent groups of the extreme right Tore Bjørgo

This chapter will discuss processes of disengagement from racist, neo-Nazi or other right-wing extremist groups involved in violence or acts of terrorism. The extreme right-wing scene constitutes a multitude of organizational types, ranging from political parties and formal organizations; counter-cultural youth scenes (such as skinhead gangs); various forms of networks and milieus; and groups established for the purpose of terrorist and combat activities.1 These groups may make use of a wide repertoire of violent acts, ranging from bombings, shootings and arson attacks to assaulting foreigners and engaging in street-fights with political opponents. Only a few such groups are predominantly terrorist but many make occasional use of terrorist methods. Finding accurate labels for these ‘groups’, ‘networks’ and ‘sub-cultures’ is sometimes problematic because the organizational set-up is often vague and informal. To characterize individuals who have joined such groups as ‘activists’ or ‘members’ may be somewhat misleading, since many ‘members’ of these groups and scenes do not have formal memberships, and many have joined for purposes other than political activism. Within these scenes, there are also a number of different roles an individual can go into, from violent fighter to propaganda or intelligence activities, or just participation in social activities. It is useful to make a distinction between bounded and unbounded groups. Racist sub-cultures, scenes or milieus are generally unbounded in the sense that the boundaries are relatively fuzzy, and that it is not clearly defined who is inside and who is outside. There are normally a number of people at the margins of the scene who sympathize or share some elements of opinions or style; who mingle socially with activists; and who drift in or out of the scene. Access to the inner circles, however, is restricted to individuals considered reliable and worthy of trust. Thus, there are status hierarchies within unbounded scenes, but the criteria for status and access are not clearly defined. Inner circles may be seen as consisting of one or several bounded groups into which individuals can be accepted only after some sort of approval or sponsorship by persons with a higher standing in the group. Being accepted into such a bounded group involves trust, obligations, commitment and – very significantly – being initiated into some of the group’s

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31

secrets. Thus, inclusion in a bounded and closed group means the individual can no longer leave the group at will without being considered a security risk or even a traitor. Just like some individuals may migrate from one type of group into another, or from one role to another, some groups also transform from one type to another, e.g. moving towards more systematic involvement in terrorism or moving away from violence. In a number of cases, right-wing extremist organisations have been disbanded as a direct consequence of core members having been arrested for involvement in terrorism, often to re-emerge under another name. We will in particular look at disengagement from right-wing extremist groups and organizations which cater primarily to young people. However, to understand these processes, it is necessary to comprehend why some young people are attracted to such extreme groups, how they get socialized into group values and behaviour, and how group membership affects their relationships to their former social network and mainstream society in general.2 Our main task, however, will be to explore the experiences and circumstances which motivate individuals to quit, and what obstacles there are to leaving the group. How can these obstacles be overcome or circumvented, and what exit strategies are available? What can society (such as family, friends, police and other authorities) do to facilitate such disengagement? In which ways is disengagement from right-wing extremist groups similar to or different from disengagement from other types of violent extremist groups? This study has been mainly, but not exclusively, based on interview data. The most important set of sources was a series of direct interviews I had with about 50 individuals – some who were racist activists in the past but have left the group in one way or another, others who were still activists but seriously thinking of quitting.3 In addition to this primary group, I also have secondhand information about a much larger number of former activists. Sources vary with regard to the level of detail and reliability, ranging from published autobiographies4 and newspaper interviews, to former activists reporting what happened to other former members of their group. Several parents whose children had joined racist groups have also provided valuable insight. This type of second-hand data provides a basis for judging to what extent findings resulting from primary sources can be generalized.5

Entry Extreme groups fulfil certain fundamental social and psychological needs for many young people. However, joining such a group may have consequences they did not anticipate. They frequently find that it is much easier to get into such an extreme group than it is to get out. When asking what attracts young people to racist, nationalist or neo-Nazi groups, one must first realize that these groups appeal to different types of persons who may join for very different reasons, or combinations of reasons. While this study concentrates

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on the dynamics of leaving racist groups, some brief consideration should be given to how and why young people join racist groups in the first place. •

•

•

•

•

• •

•

•

Ideology and politics: In most cases, young people do not join racist groups because they are racists, but they gradually adopt racist views because they have become part of a racist group. Some do make contact with racist groups for political reasons, though. This may have been occasioned by a general feeling of alienation from mainstream political culture or may be the result of a sudden ‘conversion experience’. Provocation and anger: Others are less concerned about ideological content but respond more to what they experience as provocative and outrageous behaviour by immigrants or by leftist anti-racists, or feel that they get less access to social services and other scarce goods than those offered to immigrants and asylum seekers. Protection: Young people may join militant racist groups to get protection against various enemies or perceived threats. Racist youth groups sometimes actively seek out individuals who are in need of protection and offer them security in the group. Drifting: Many young people may be described as ‘tasters’ or ‘drifters’ who join and leave a series of movements, organizations and sub-cultures. Within the span of a few years, some teenagers make careers which include a number of very disparate groups and activities – often apparently at odds with each other. They are often motivated by curiosity and a search for excitement more than real commitment. Thrill seeking: Some of those who involve themselves with extreme political groups represent a personality type with a particularly strong psychological need for excitement, for testing their own limits and for exposing themselves to potentially dangerous situations. Violence, weapons and uniforms: Some of those joining militant racist and Nazi groups are strongly attracted by the violent and militaristic aspects of these groups. The search for substitute families and father figures: Many of those joining extremist groups have a troubled relationship with their families and with their fathers in particular. Older activists in racist groups often serve as substitute father figures or masculine role models for such young boys in particular. The search for friends and community: Some of those joining the racist scene are individuals who have no friends and are primarily looking for friendship and acceptance. Paradoxically, racist groups are often quite forthcoming and accepting towards such youths. However, to be accepted into the inner circles is much more difficult. Some individuals may go to great lengths – including committing crimes – to win acceptance into these more secretive groups. The search for status and identity: Individuals who have failed to establish a positive identity and status in relation to school, work, sports or other

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33

social settings sometimes try to win respect by joining groups with a dangerous and intimidating image. By donning the ‘uniform’ of the local skinhead group or a neo-Nazi movement, other kids who in the past used to bully them now yield to them. Although often mistaking fear for respect, by joining a racist group they perceive a clear difference in the ways others relate to them. A similar process can be observed at group level. Local youth gangs, feared and despised for their arbitrary violence, vandalism and criminality, may find that if they turn their violence and aggression towards unpopular foreigners, some segments of the local community may applaud, the national news media give their acts extensive coverage, and racist organizations may hail them as true patriots and nationalist fighters. The most common way youths get in direct contact with racist groups is by being introduced through friends or older siblings who are already members themselves. Girls frequently get involved as girlfriends. Many youths come into contact through media focus on specific racist groups.6 Racist groups are also developing their own media in increasingly skilled ways. Magazines, local radio broadcasts, internet web pages, White Power rock on CD, videos and concerts are reaching an increasing number of young people who may thereby get in touch with the movement.

Community-building and bridge-burning Once a young person has established contact with a radical nationalist, racist or neo-Nazi group, what happens to him or her? To some newcomers, very little. They hang around for a while, find that it was not quite what they expected, become disappointed that they are not immediately admitted to the inner core of the group where the more secretive and alluring activities are going on, and leave to search for something more exciting. Few noticed that they came or that they left. The shorter the time they have been inside, and the less they have been involved, the easier it is to get out.7 Others have very different experiences, and undergo two parallel and mutually reinforcing processes: inclusion and socialization into a new reclusive and stigmatized community, and severance of ties to the ‘normal’ community outside. As these dual processes progress, it becomes increasingly difficult – sometimes almost impossible – to leave the group. There is considerable variation in the ways newcomers are received. Some groups welcome new recruits with open arms, trying to bring as many as possible into social and political activities as soon as possible. However, most groups are more careful, mainly due to fear of infiltration by political opponents or the police. New members are only allowed into some of the social activities and ‘open’ forms of activism. Only gradually are those who prove their trustworthiness and dedication introduced to more sensitive activities.

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Newcomers in the group have described how they have gone through a process of socialization. They learn from the others how to behave in order to find their place in the ‘family’. One important aspect of this is to instil into new members a sense of security consciousness about things to keep their mouths shut about, to be careful about what they talk about on the phone or send by mail, and where they can go and not go safely in town. There is an element of realism behind these concerns, as there have been several confirmed cases of infiltration in the past, and there is no doubt that both the police and radical anti-racists often try to keep an eye on the group, its members and its activities. However, an equally important effect of this security consciousness is to create a sense of paranoia among members, a pervasive feeling of belonging to a small group surrounded by enemies. This may serve to strengthen group cohesion and loyalty, and add to the mystique and excitement of belonging to a ‘dangerous’ and more or less clandestine group. At the same time, however, the suspicion that the enemies may have infiltrated the group reinforces this atmosphere of distrust and paranoia. New members are not trusted, and even long-term members may occasionally be suspected of being traitors. The fear of being considered untrustworthy or even accused of being an infiltrator is a powerful factor promoting conformity and submission to group values among newcomers. This gives leaders and core members a means of exercising power and disciplinary sanctions in relation to less senior members as well as non-conforming individuals within the group.8 It takes time for newcomers to become accepted as full members. It is widely assumed among prospective recruits that they have to carry out an act of violence or commit another crime in order to qualify for full membership. Several cases where youths have acted on this assumption have been documented in court, the youths stating explicitly that their motive for carrying out the crime was to become accepted into a racist group or network.9 However, there are reasons to doubt that this is a general prerequisite for becoming accepted as a full member in most racist groups. Achieving a position of high standing in the group depends a lot on time and seniority. After half a year the group can in most cases see if a recruit will stay the course, and after one or two years the probability of dropping out is low. Those who have shown the stamina and ability to hang on for so many years are seen as deserving respect because they have had to go through so much. Sooner or later, most new members will experience violent confrontations with enemies such as anti-racists, ‘foreigners’ or the police. Such confrontations are significant events to those who participate, whether the battle ends in victory, defeat or arrest. Regardless of the outcome, these events tend to give the participants an experience of common destiny. Victories are sources of shared pride; defeats give rise to hatred and bitterness against the common enemy. Even experiencing bitter defeat tends to strengthen group cohesion. Although violence and harassment from militant anti-racists may serve to raise the costs of joining a racist group, and may sometimes scare recruits

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into pulling out, the effect is often the opposite, as described by sociologist Katrine Fangen (1995: 102, my translation): That young [recruits] are thoroughly beaten up at an early stage has a symbolic meaning to the group as well. If after such an experience the youths are still hanging on, they can be considered loyal members. To be beaten up is the ‘baptism of fire’ everyone has to go through sooner or later. To the extent that the group has initiation rites, this is certainly the most conspicuous one.10 To newcomers, the experience of being beaten up or arrested by the police along with other group members also tends to redefine their entire relationship to the society. If such newcomers were marginal to the group until then, they may suddenly start to speak about ‘we’ – a change of identity which does not pass unnoticed by the others. Another important consequence of taking part in these violent confrontations is that these experiences tend to change profoundly how they relate to violence – both in terms of the legitimacy of using violence, and by getting familiar with the practice of it. A young female activist observed: It is remarkable how fast I have shifted my boundaries regarding violence. I used to be against violence. Now it does not cost me a penny to beat and take out all my aggression against someone who represents what I hate. For every confrontation against the police or against political opponents, the more hardened I become, and the more I can endure the next time. From being stunned and scared by seeing and experiencing violence, I have come to enjoy it.11 Becoming socialized into a new community, with a world-view and value system completely at odds with mainstream society, and building bonds of loyalty to the new ‘family’, represents one fundamental process individuals go through when they join a racist group. An equally important process takes place more or less simultaneously: the severing of ties to ‘normal’ society, as well as to family and friends. Society for its part stigmatizes the group as despicable Nazis and racists. This experience is described by a seventeen-yearold activist: As soon as it was known to others that I was with the nationalist group, I was branded. It did not take long before everyone knew that I had become a ‘neo-Nazi’. Old friends suddenly shied away from me. Some found it awkward to meet me in the street. Others I have only contact with at a superficial level. In the group, it is a collective experience that almost everybody turns their backs on us. One of the things that keep us together is this shared feeling of isolation. I do not understand parents who cut off their children because they become nationalists. Then they

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Leaving Terrorism Behind cut off all connections and possibilities as well! It is a real problem that we do not get any kinds of correction from our surroundings. In the past, when I had an opinion, I could discuss it with people who disagreed with me. Now I can only discuss with people who already agree with me completely. What if I am wrong? I have read the novel Lord of the Flies, about a group of immature young boys, without any experience of life, left alone on a desolate island. Things go completely wrong, ending up in total barbarism. We are like them – isolated and with no one to correct us. I feel that things are going too far, and I am scared about where it will all end.12

Reasons for considering leaving the group At some stage, most activists consider leaving the group and starting to live a ‘normal’ life. What kinds of experiences and factors contribute to this decision? Below, I try to systematize some of the more common factors. Those who quit the group are usually affected by a combination of several factors. Obviously, the more reasons, the stronger is the urge to quit. It is useful to make a distinction between ‘push’ and ‘pull’ factors.13 ‘Push’ relates to negative social forces and circumstances which make it unattractive and unpleasant to remain in a particular social environment, whereas ‘pull’ refers to factors attracting the person to a more rewarding alternative. Push factors Negative social sanctions may cause some of those who join racist groups to reconsider their affiliation. These may range from parental scolding and social isolation to criminal prosecution and harassment or violence by militant anti-racists. Such sanctions are normally more effective in relation to new recruits who have not yet established strong ties of loyalty and broken all ties to the ‘normal’ community. In some cases, youths who had thrown bombs and Molotovs at asylum centres felt regret only after the gravity of their acts was pointed out to them by the police and the media. In other cases, youngsters withdrew from the militant group when the consequences of continued affiliation were made clear to them in no uncertain terms. However, some of these negative sanctions, such as branding them ‘racists’ and ‘Nazis’, may have the unintended effect of pushing new recruits further into the stigmatized group, thereby diminishing their exit options and strengthening their loyalty to the group. This is especially the case when negative sanctions are not combined with positive incentives to establish alternative identities. Some activists lose faith in the ideology and politics of the group or movement. They experience self-doubt where they feel that what they had believed in and fought for was wrong, both morally and politically. However, it is

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probably more common that beliefs change after leaving the group, and as a consequence, rather than before, and as a cause of leaving the group.14 A common feeling among some activists is that ‘things are going too far’, especially in terms of violence. They may feel that there are too many violence-prone and extremist people joining the group, doing wild things they themselves cannot accept or do not want to be associated with. Some also fear that the violent conflict with militant anti-racists is escalating and getting out of hand, and that people on both sides may get killed.15 Some of the more ideologically inclined may consider joining a more moderate or less actionoriented group. This was the case with some of the activists in Norsk Front (Norwegian Front) and its successor group, Nasjonalt Folkeparti (National People’s Party), who – after some other NF activists had been involved in several bombings in 1979 and 1985 – pulled out and established the National Socialist organisation Zorn 88, which was extreme in terms of ideology but moderate in terms of violence.16 Others left the movement altogether. For many of them, things had gone much too far. Some grow disillusioned with the inner workings and activities of the group. One common objection is that the group is too much involved in drinking beer and having fun rather than focusing on serious political work. This disillusionment is often experienced by those who are primarily interested in discussing ideology, producing and disseminating political propaganda, and building effective political organizations or even clandestine terrorist cells. They tend to become frustrated by belonging to a rowdy skinhead group where members get involved in drunken brawls with each others or in senseless fights with immigrants and anti-racists. Another source of disillusionment is the lack of loyalty among the members of the group, even if they are loyal to the group as such. Although comradeship is a central value to the group, many find that even those they held to be close friends stab them in the back, betray or cheat them. Pressure from outside and the fear of infiltration produce a strong sense of paranoia within the group, and this may often cause people to accuse one another of being infiltrators or potential traitors. Disseminating scandalous rumours and stories about other members is also a common practice in many groups.17 Some new members are also dismayed by the ways veteran activists try to manipulate and control the younger ones, being protective and helpful in order to place newcomers in a position of dependence, involving them in illegal activities and trying to cut off their exit options. It’s a give and take to spend time with the leading people in the movement, it is not for free. I get a certain amount of confidence and friendship from them, but then they expect something from me, a ‘talented and promising activist’. They give me small hints and thinly veiled threats that ‘since we have invested so much in you, we would be very disappointed if you defect and let us down . . .’ When I began to realize what they expect from me, it was not pleasant at all. They want to control all

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Leaving Terrorism Behind aspects of my life, such as how and with whom I spend my time. Now and then they send me signals that they know everything about me, about my relatives, where they live and so on. I feel they try to dig their claws into me and use every trick to tie me to the movement. When I started to realize how they manipulated, I lost my illusions in relation to everyone, getting suspicious when people are nice: What do they want from me? The longer I stay, the more difficult it will become to establish a new life outside the group. They know, and I know, that if they can keep their hold on me long enough, they have got me.18

Even long-term activists are vulnerable to the risks of losing confidence, status and position in the group. Although most youth groups do not have formal leadership hierarchies, they are nevertheless highly status-oriented. This makes members highly vulnerable to various accusations and rumours. The pervasive paranoia and fear of infiltrators also expose people to accusations of being traitors or informers. Other forms of alleged unacceptable behaviour may also threaten the individual’s status and standing. In one case, for instance, a nationalist activist was accused in a skinhead fanzine of being a homosexual, whereas a female activist was accused of having sex with nonwhite immigrants.19 Leading persons may sometimes be openly criticized for running away and leaving young and inexperienced activists behind to be beaten up by attacking anti-racist militants, thereby not living up to the high expectations other members have of them. Others may be criticized for being alcoholics and incapable of running serious political activities, for being loose-mouthed with journalists, or for being self-promoters rather than real leaders. In such situations, when a person’s standing and reputation in the group is low, the option of quitting is more tempting than in a period when they are respected and well-regarded by their mates. In extreme cases, members may even be formally (or even violently) expelled from the group. This happened with the former leader of Danmarks National-Socialistiske Bevægelse, Povl Heinrich Riis-Knudsen, who was also at one point the head of WUNS, the World Union of National Socialists. It was publicly exposed that he had an illicit affair with a Palestinian woman (‘a white Arab’, according to himself) – a major scandal in the NS world, and probably the end of his activist career.20 A common feeling among many ‘front-line’ activists is that after a while they become exhausted and can no longer take the pressure. Life in a skinhead gang or a militant nationalist youth group can be very exciting. The struggle against various enemies – whether they be militant anti-racists, immigrant youth gangs or the police – may entail violent clashes, clandestine activities and an almost constant feeling of high tension and uncertainty. The attraction of these adrenaline highs makes ‘normal’ life outside seem almost unbearably dull. However, few people can continue to live this kind of life year after year without becoming emotionally and physically burnt out. The negative aspects of being stigmatized, socially isolated, always exposed to violent attacks from

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opponents, and consumed by intense hatred for various enemies also tend to take their toll as time passes by. Likewise, living under legal pressure and police surveillance may be exhausting in the long run. Many activists have committed crimes for which they face or fear legal prosecution. In countries where the authorities may ban extremist organisations, the fear of becoming stigmatized by being linked to an illegal association may add to the pressure.

Pull factors The negative aspects of life as an activist in a stigmatized, extremist group often create a longing for the freedoms of a ‘normal’ life. However, most activists are rather ambivalent about this. On the one hand, it is a very attractive idea to be able to live a relaxed life, minding one’s own business without always having to be on guard against enemies and traitors, without fear of violence, without being stigmatized and isolated, and without all the restrictions of a more or less underground existence. On the other hand, ‘normal life’ may also appear dull, flat and empty, and therefore almost frightening. Many doubt that they would be able to endure it without backsliding. At some point, activists in militant nationalist or racist youth groups feel that they are getting too old for what they are doing.21 They no longer have the same need for excitement; they may have less energy, and want to calm things down. Having matured, chasing and being chased by ‘communists’ and immigrant youth gangs no longer appears meaningful. Their authority and prestige may also be challenged by rebellious teenage members, who may even see them as representatives of their parents’ generation. After passing the age of 30, veteran skinheads tend to feel more and more out of place in the group. Unless they are able to redefine their roles in relation to the group, e.g. by acquiring some kind of managerial position or becoming a ‘withdrawn elder’, they will sooner or later leave or become marginalized. Some may join an ‘adult’ nationalist organization. Others try to adapt to a more normal lifestyle and leave their period of nationalist activism behind. This transition can be extremely difficult, especially for the older ones. However, most skinheads begin to think about their future and possible professional careers at a much earlier stage, usually about at the time when they turn 20. Young activists are acutely aware that being publicly known as neo-Nazis, racists or radical nationalists may jeopardize their career prospects and personal futures. Few European countries have Berufsverbot (professional disqualification) against political extremists in a formal or legal sense (Germany is a notable exception), but it is nevertheless a fact of life that certain types of political extremists do not get certain jobs, or may even be fired. Many nationalist and right-wing radicals would like to join the police force or pursue a military career. However, they are generally screened out from these forces through procedures of being judged ‘unfit’ or through security clearances, as most of them eventually become registered in the files of the security services. In Norway, several teachers have lost their jobs – sometimes after

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lengthy trials – because they have expressed opinions which are considered to be incompatible with their positions as mentors of young people. Even bus drivers, shopkeepers and factory workers have been dismissed from their work due to pressure from colleagues, customers or anti-racist activists. In some cases, students have been more or less forced to quit their studies because of their political activism. There is a correlation between being unemployed and being a racist activist, but the direction of causation is often the opposite of what is generally assumed. Thus, for a youth who has ambitions of obtaining a higher education and an interesting and relevant job, it is not expedient to continue as a racist or neo-Nazi activist. One of the strongest motives for leaving a militant racist or nationalist youth group is to establish a family with new responsibilities for spouse and children. Getting a girlfriend (or boyfriend) outside the group is a frequent cause of quitting. Such situations obviously involve establishing new bonds of loyalty and setting different priorities. In relation to groups which have some kind of gang structure (such as some skinhead or rocker groups) or in other ways demand the full loyalty of the individual member, this may lead to a fundamental conflict of loyalty which can only be solved by either leaving the group or leaving the family or girl(/boy)friend. Loyalty to spouse and children will often take priority over loyalty to group and mates.

Factors inhibiting disengagement Although an activist may have several strong reasons for leaving the group, there may still be sufficiently strong factors linked to the processes of bridge-burning and community-building which work to discourage them from taking such a step. There are several positive characteristics of the group which may be considered too valuable to leave behind. High investments have been made in terms of friendship and social support. The racist group provides community, a substitute ‘family’, identity, security against external threats and enemies, excitement and adventure. Even if a person has completely lost faith in the group’s ideology and politics, ties of friendship and loyalty may for some individuals constitute more than sufficient reasons for staying with the group. Potential defectors may also fear negative sanctions from the group – sometimes with good reason. However, some extremist groups let their members leave if they want to. New recruits, who have been only on the periphery of the scene and not initiated into any of the group’s secrets, may normally also leave without any consequences whatsoever – at least if they do not switch to the anti-racists or run to the media with what they might know. It is quite different for long-time activists who have been part of the core of a violent group. Such persons know things about the group and fellow members which may cause serious problems with the police as well as with militant antiracists or the media if this information got out. At best, the peer group will be deeply disappointed when a fellow activist does not want to associate

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him/herself with the ‘family’ any more. His or her whereabouts will certainly be monitored closely. If the person in question refrains from doing anything which may damage the group, he or she may – with some luck – not get into trouble with the former group. However, if s/he goes to the media, the police or political opponents to reveal secrets or to distance him/herself from past political affiliations and acts, reactions may be harsh. Leading activists who defect will normally receive death threats, and some have been beaten up severely. However, although threats to kill defectors are common, only rarely have death threat been carried through.22 Less lethal sanctions, such as harassment, verbal threats and expression of contempt, represent more realistic threats to defectors than outright violence. In one case, a very young activist who had founded and headed a nationalist youth group before his parents managed to get him out, one evening had close to 30 of his former friends besieging the family’s house. When the boy – who by then was determined to stay away from extremist politics – called the police to get help, they refused to come because he was known to them as a racist troublemaker.23 Another former activist was shot at through the kitchen window, and his girlfriend and mother were also attacked using violence or vandalism.24 Loss of protection against former enemies One of the ironies involved in quitting a racist or neo-Nazi group which has been involved in an ongoing violent struggle with militant anti-racists or violent immigrant youth gangs is that former enemies do not necessarily believe that the disengagement is genuine, or may not even care. Sometimes, names and personal data remain stored in anti-fascist data banks, or are even published – frequently containing exaggerated or false information about their alleged Nazi activities. Militant opponents may therefore continue to assault and harass a person even after he or she has quit the racist group. For such persons, the act of leaving the racist group may also mean losing the relative protection they could enjoy by being part of a violent gang or organization. Fear of being left in such a precarious situation may serve to dissuade potential defectors from quitting, and the actual experience of it may prompt others to return to the fold. Negative sanctions from the criminal justice system Some activists wishing to pull out have committed serious crimes in the past which may or may not have been solved by the police. Possibly facing a long sentence, they fear that former comrades may tip off the police, or that the police may put the defector under pressure to inform on accomplices. Nowhere to go One of the main reasons why (potential) leavetakers may end up in such precarious situations is that former social relations with friends and family were broken or impaired when s/he joined the racist group. If the person in question tries to withdraw from the group without making a sharp and (in the eyes of the racist group) provocative breach, the defector will

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often be met with suspicion, without the moral support and protection s/he needs, and risks ending up in a social vacuum. Fear that career prospects are ruined Individuals, who have been publicly known for neo-Nazi or racist activism, may – with some justification – feel that their prospects of getting a good and interesting job are seriously impaired, even if they are no longer politically active. They fear that their past will always haunt them.

How to disengage? Asking how individuals disengage from an extremist and violent group may be more fruitful than asking why they do so.25 The following overview will discuss some main strategies former activists have used or may use to get out of violent racist groups, and outline and evaluate the pros and cons of the main options open to persons considering leaving. The next section will explore some of the methods developed to facilitate disengagement. A public break The most obvious and spectacular strategy is to make a straight and public break with the racist movement, renouncing the attitudes and the ideologies it represents. Some switch sides completely by getting actively involved in anti-racist activities of some sort. Such ex-members may expose the dark secrets of the group, such as plans of violence, membership lists and other damaging information, or they may assume the role of a character who – with authority based on dearly-bought personal experience – warns young people about the dangers of getting involved with such extremist groups. In both cases, this strategy may involve a full confrontation with the group from which the person disaffiliated, as well as with former friends, and a total upheaval of values and lifestyle. Such a dramatic breach will therefore in most cases entail psychological strains as well as serious security risks. In addition, former friends in the group may feel the defection as a personal betrayal. In their anger they will often make death threats towards the defector, and take at least some steps to punish the person in question. This high-profile form of defection is the exit strategy normally associated with a few high-profile activists. Such individuals have fewer exit options available than the more anonymous activists, who can pull out with less fuss and less risk of being hampered by their extremist past. To well-known activists, a clean and public breach with their past offers them an opportunity to – almost literally – begin a new life. This strategy also offers the bonus of gaining social and political support from new groups and individuals, such as family and old friends. Some of these high-profile defectors make use of the media to proclaim their dissociation from their former group and ideology for two particular reasons: firstly, by making a public statement, they hope to persuade those anti-racists and others who doubt that their dissociation is genuine. Another

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reason is that when a former activist has quit the group without any ado, former peers will often try to persuade him to return – and he may even feel tempted. By making a public statement of dissociation, and expressing critical views about the movement, the defector is effectively burning his bridges back to the former group. One slightly different variety of this strategy is sometimes chosen by rankand-file members of racist groups, individuals who are not publicly known. They may switch over to their former radical anti-racist opponents without any media publicity or public statements. Sometimes they may play the role of a mole for an intermediate period, providing the anti-racists with valuable intelligence and in the process building their own credibility. When they make the final breach, and their defection becomes known to their previous peers in the racist group, they already enjoy protection under the umbrella of the antiracist militants. This type of cross-over may also go in the opposite direction, from anti-racist to racist youth sub-cultures.26 Breaking with group without breaking with ideology A number of activists break more or less publicly with the racist groups they belonged to by referring to family obligations, fear of ruined career prospects, dissatisfaction with the direction the group is moving, etc. – but without making a complete break with the ideology and politics of the movement as such. The outcome of this exit strategy is often that the person in question ends up in a highly precarious situation. They may still be exposed to harassment and social ostracism both from their former group and from former enemies, but without gaining any support and protection from a new social network. Workmates, prospective employers, friends from the pre-racist period, antiracists and even family members tend to regard such ‘half-hearted defectors’ with suspicion. Such defectors therefore run the risk of ending up in a social vacuum, with a strong feeling of social isolation and loneliness. After a while, many of them long for the old group, with its sense of community and comradeship, but may be rejected there as well. In spite of this, there seems to be a considerable proportion of backsliding among this kind of ex-member – probably because it is the least rewarding of all exit strategies available. However, this ‘halfway’ form of dissociation is often only a stage in a process which might eventually end up with a full breach.27 As attitudes tend to change after a change of group affiliation rather than vice versa, it may take time to readjust to a new reality. One variety of this strategy is to break with the stigmatized extremist group by opting for a more moderate and ‘softer’ version of (some of ) the same views. For instance, neo-Nazis may distance themselves from Nazism by joining – or even establishing – a less stigmatized non-Nazi nationalist or right-wing party. Quiet and gradual withdrawal Group members who are not publicly known as racist activists have good prospects of a successful reintegration into mainstream society by taking a low-key approach, withdrawing gradually

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without ever making an open or public break. During a lengthy period they gradually make themselves marginal to the group, taking less and less part in political or social activities, lose interest in the group and make the group lose interest in them. By staying away from all kinds of media publicity and not involving themselves with anti-racist groups, this form of defection is unlikely either to provoke reprisals from the movement or to cause them any negative sanctions from mainstream society. Few will know that they were ever part of a racist movement, and, hopefully, those who do know will keep it to themselves. There is, however, a major problem associated with this form of defection strategy: the racist skeleton in the closet. Throughout the rest of their lives, there is always a risk that the past may return to haunt them. Paradoxically, for a person who has been involved with a stigmatized group, the better he or she is integrated into mainstream society and the greater the success he or she achieves professionally, the higher the risk – and the greater the fall – if the secret past is exposed. A person who lives a normal life as a blue-collar worker may not be much hurt professionally or even socially if someone discloses that, ten years ago, he was a member of a neo-Nazi group. There is also little risk that anyone would have any interest in making such a public exposure. It is quite different if the person in question makes a career in public life, getting into high positions where image, trust and confidence are essential qualities. With public visibility, there may well be someone who harbours a personal grudge or has vested political interest in revealing dark secrets about this character’s past, particularly if the person becomes controversial – what might be called the ‘Kurt Waldheim syndrome’. These stories tend to make excellent media headlines.28 An exit strategy based on withdrawal from the extremist group without ever making a clean and public break may be quite expedient in the short run, causing few or no negative sanctions. However, the long-term effects may be quite damaging.

When groups lose their grip on members Thus far we have discussed defection only as an individual strategy. However, there are some situations which encourage various degrees of mass defection from racist organizations and groups. These situations tend to reduce the impact of some of the factors inhibiting defection, in particular weakening the positive characteristics of the group which make it attractive to be part of it, and by reducing the threat of negative sanctions against members leaving the group. There are several circumstances which may produce situations where groups (and leaders) lose their grip on group members. One common factor is the emergence of dissatisfaction and conflict within the group. The sources of discontent may vary considerably, from disagreements over ideology and the

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use of violent methods to rival claims to leadership, or assertions of disloyalty. Dissatisfied members have the possibilities of either joining another, rival organization, or splitting off and creating a new group (which may be more militant or more moderate).29 However, significant segments of a group or a movement may also withdraw from militant groups and extremist politics altogether, sometimes involving a considerable number of individuals. When internal group discipline and loyalty is low, when leaders are weak or discredited, and many activists break out to join or establish competing groups, sanctions against defecting members are likely to lose credibility. It is therefore relatively easy to join others in breaking with the group without necessarily following them into a new group.30 Another frequent cause of mass defection is that members of the group carry out serious acts of violence, and that leaders and co-members become implicated. This happened with Norsk Front (Norwegian Front, NF) and its successor, Nasjonalt Folkeparti (National People’s Party) after bombings in 1979 and 1985 respectively. The same was the case with the Swedish Nordiska Rikspartiet (Nordic National Party, NRP) and its Riksaktionsgruppe (National Action group, RAG) during the same period. In the NRP/RAG case, the young militants felt deeply betrayed and alienated when the NRP leaders during the trial distanced themselves from violent actions they had approved of earlier. Most of the militant youths subsequently left the organization.31 Although many former NRP/RAG activists later started up or joined other racist groups and activities, quite a few did not – including the RAG leader himself. The Danish ‘Green Jackets’ was a criminal youth gang which turned to racism during the mid-1980s. However, at the height of their ‘career’ as a group around 1987/88, the Green Jackets started to fall apart. In coordination with youth workers, the police managed to jail the more ideological hard core of Green Jackets, thereby isolating them from the wider group of followers. The youth workers concentrated their efforts on this outer circle, offering jobs and job training, help to find apartments, leisure-time activities and other forms of assistance. Quite a few got girlfriends and children, and new loyalties thereby replaced ties to the gang. By the end of the 1980s, the Green Jacket group had more or less disintegrated, and was no longer considered a problem in terms of racism or extremist politics. However, even among groups which seem to grow and thrive, there may nevertheless be a large turnover. For instance, the Norwegian nationalist girls’ group Valkyria was established in late autumn 1994, consisting of 12 ‘founding members’. One year later, Valkyria had grown to 30 members, divided into two separate groups. However, of the original 12, only four were still members after that year (a turnover rate of 66 per cent), and at least one (probably two) of these remaining quit later. Altogether, about 60 girls had been members or participated in group activities at some point during that twelve-month period. One of the two groups had a great influx of new recruits, but a very high turnover rate (possibly due to intensive intervention

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efforts from police, school and parents). The other group had a lower but somewhat more stable membership.32 Thus, a considerable turnover of members seems to be a normal feature of most racist youth groups, but the rate varies strongly from group to group. The likelihood of dissociation declines with the time the person has been part of the group. Mass defection from racist groups may be facilitated by general dissatisfaction, conflict within the group, or discredited leaders, which in its turn may lead to factionalism and organizational splits. ‘Forced’ reorganization due to police investigation or arrests of members or leaders for illegal activities is also a situation likely to cause a high number of defections. In some countries, banning of organizations may lead to the same results. And when groups collapse completely, many of the members are likely to leave not only the group but the racist sub-culture as well. What these situations have in common is that they tend to reduce the effectiveness of some of the factors which normally keep members from dropping out. When many of the positive characteristics which in the past made it attractive to belong to the group are gone, and when the threat of negative sanctions against members leaving the group is less credible, the likelihood of mass defection rises considerably. What may still prevent members from leaving the racist group or sub-culture is, however, that they see no alternative places to go outside, and that they expect to be rejected by society.

Conclusions Thus far we have discussed some of the factors and processes that lead young people into racist groups, what motivates many of them to eventually disengage, and what prevents them from doing so. Most of these factors can be influenced through deliberate interventions. It is useful to focus on youths because most of the recruitment takes place among young people. They are easier to influence – for better as well as for worse. By intervening early with youths who are flirting with the racist scene, and offering alternative means to solve their needs, it is possible to prevent them from becoming fully part of the group and adopting its racist values and a violent mode of behaviour. Thereby recruitment can be reduced. It is also possible to increase the individual’s motivations to quit the group. The strongest motivations will obviously come as the result of a combination of push and pull factors. Push alone or pull alone is less likely to work. If interventions make it costly and unpleasant to remain in the racist group, then more attractive alternatives must be made available simultaneously if we want members of such groups to seriously consider disengaging. However, there are obstacles to disengagement. Many of those breaking with extremist groups fear reprisals from former friends and former enemies. Some of these people have an obvious need for protection, or at least to find ways to handle their fear. And they also need new social networks and futures.

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These considerations led to the establishment of so-called ‘Exit’ projects in several European countries. Starting in Norway in 1996/97, it had offshoots (with considerable local modifications) in Sweden, Finland, Germany and, most recently, the Netherlands. These initiatives will be discussed in a separate chapter later in this volume. In most cases, young people do not enter racist groups primarily for political reasons or motives. The main reason for joining is that such tight-knit and secretive groups fulfil a number of their social and psychological needs, in terms of providing identity, community, protection and excitement. Racist ideology is usually adopted afterwards – as a consequence of rather than a cause for joining the group. Similarly, those who quit the group usually do so because continued membership in the group appears unattractive and is no longer fulfilling their social and psychological needs (push factors), whereas life outside the group appears as more attractive (pull factors). Thus, they leave the racist group for many of the same reasons as they once joined. Typically, their views and attitudes change more or less gradually after they have broken the social ties with the group, as the belief system is no longer supported and validated by a community of ‘significant others’. Thus, changes in political beliefs follow changes in group membership rather than preceding and causing these changes.33 To join a racist group will for a young person in most cases involve a dramatic transformation of social status and identity. However, leaving the group may for some involve even more dramatic breaches and transformations. As we have seen, however, whether this process of defection and reintegration goes smoothly or encounters obstacles depends on a number of factors. 1

2

3

4

How far has the person progressed in his or her career as an activist or member? This relates to the time spent with the group, the level of trust and access to group secrets (i.e. core/periphery member), degree of ideological radicalization, whether the person has become publicly known as an activist, and to what degree the person has become involved in acts of violence and other crimes. The character of the group or scene with which the individual is involved. A clandestine, terrorist-oriented cell is likely to be much more paranoid and punitive in relation to (potential) defectors than would normally be the case with loosely bounded skinhead scenes – where people drift in and out all the time. The degree of stigmatization and isolation in relation to ‘normal’ society outside. Having been publicly exposed in the media and by anti-racists, or ‘frozen out’ by family and former friends, may serve to push a person further into the extremist scene. On the other hand, such isolation and stigmatization may also add to the hardships of extremist activism, making the person long for a more ‘normal’ life. The availability of alternatives and support. Racist youth gangs fulfil

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Leaving Terrorism Behind certain needs of its members, in terms of providing identity, community, protection and excitement. Potential defectors from racist groups are unlikely to take the plunge if they see no realistic, reasonably safe and sufficiently attractive escape routes and alternatives to the kind of life they are presently living.

Anti-racist campaigns with a focus on ideology and values – the favourite measure of politicians who ‘want to do something against racism and rightwing extremism’34 – are not likely to have much effect in terms of preventing youths from joining racist groups or of inducing anyone to quit such groups. Other types of measures, addressing more directly the social factors and needs which motivate young people to both join and leave such destructive groups and to reduce obstacles to leaving are more likely to make an impact.

4

How terrorist campaigns end Audrey Kurth Cronin*

What do scholars know about how terrorist movements end? Which of those lessons are relevant to understanding how, and under what circumstances, ongoing and future terrorist campaigns can be brought to an end? These questions are crucial to our understanding of terrorism and those who engage in it. Yet they are rarely considered in any depth. As a result, most policy-makers focus on tactical aspects of campaigns and miss broader patterns that appear as groups decline, thus also overlooking opportunities to nudge the process along. Terrorism studies are often event driven, spurred by attacks and the need to analyse and respond more effectively to a specific threat. As a result, the bulk of traditional research on terrorism has been descriptive analysis focused on one group, detailing its organization, structure, tactics, leadership, and so on. True to this pattern, since the terrorist attacks of September 11 2001 there has been an outpouring of research, bad and good, on al-Qaeda, but little attention to analysing it across functional lines within a wider body of knowledge and research on terrorist groups. To the extent that broader crosscutting research has been done, the weight of it rests on questions of the causes of this threat, as well as the arguably narrow matters of the weapons and methods being used or likely to be used. This agenda reflects the strengths of the established international security and defence community, where there is far more expertise, for example, on nuclear weapons and proliferation than on the Arabic-speaking networks that might use them, on operational methods such as suicide attacks than on the operatives who employ them, and on the causes of wars than there is on how wars end. Yet, just as war termination may be more vital in its implications for the international system than how wars begin, the question of how the al-Qaeda movement ends may be vital to understanding the strategic implications for the United States, its allies, and the shape of the new era. The question of how terrorist groups decline is insufficiently studied and the available research is virtually untapped. Yet it has a raft of implications for the challenges posed by al-Qaeda and its associates, and for the counterterrorist policies of the United States and its allies, many of which reflect little awareness or scrutiny of the assumptions upon which they rest. For example,

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senior leaders focus on the capture or death of Osama bin Laden as a central objective in the campaign against al-Qaeda.1 However, past experience with decapitation of terrorist groups is not seriously examined for insights into this case. Other analysts concentrate on the root causes of terrorism and urge policies that will shift local public support away from al-Qaeda, suggesting a long-term approach toward the movement’s gradual decline. Experience from cases where populations have become unwilling to support other causes is little tapped, and resulting changes in the behaviour of terrorist organizations separated from their constituencies is hardly known. In other cases, the use of force or other repressive measures against terrorist groups has been successful. Yet the conditions under which that approach has succeeded or failed are not scrutinized for parallels with al-Qaeda. Most observers assume that negotiations would never lead to the end of al-Qaeda, because it has nonnegotiable, apocalyptic demands. But experience with other groups that had open-ended or evolving demands is little scrutinized. In short, the substantial history of how terrorism declines and ceases has not been analysed for its potential relevance to al-Qaeda. The argument here is that past experience with the decline of terrorist organizations is vital to dealing with the current threat, and that the US and its allies can and must tap into that experience to avoid prior mistakes and effect al-Qaeda’s demise. The first section of this article provides a brief review of previous research on how terrorism declines or ends; the second is an examination of the endings of other relevant terrorist organizations, with an eye toward determining what has worked in previous campaigns and why. The conclusion will suggest how this knowledge can be translated into policies that facilitate the ending of terrorist campaigns.

Previous research on how terrorism ends The study of terrorism is often narrowly conceived and full of gaps; it is not surprising that the question of how the phenomenon ends is understudied. Most contemporary research on terrorism is conducted by scholars who are relatively new to the subject and unaware of the body of work that has gone before. They have made little effort to build on past conclusions, with only halting and disappointing progress in understanding the phenomenon outside its present political context.2 The vast majority of work in the field has been undertaken by people who have only a transient involvement with their subject: in the 1990s, for example, 83 per cent of the articles published in the major journals of terrorism research were written by researchers who dabbled in it for only one article.3 Not unrelated, a crippling aspect to research on terrorism is the applied nature of much of it; analysts willing to examine more than one group or broader, non-contemporary, conceptual questions are rare.4 This is somewhat understandable, given that different groups undertake terrorist acts for different reasons and it is safer to specialize; however, efforts to accelerate the demise of al-Qaeda require more lateral thinking.

How terrorist campaigns end 51 The thinness of terrorism studies may be giving way to more sustained substantive research in the post-September 11 world, though it is too early to say whether current attention will persist and mature. Nonetheless, a number of overlapping themes and approaches emerge from the serious research conducted thus far, in three areas: the relationship between how a terrorist group begins and ends; the search for predictable cycles or phases of terrorist activity; and the comparison of historical cases. Links between beginning and endings Hypotheses about how terrorism ends are often connected to the broader body of hypotheses about what causes terrorism.5 The assumption is that the origins of terrorism persist as drivers of terrorist organizations and shed light on sources of their eventual demise. This is often an oversimplification; given the close ties between terrorism analysis and government support, without the urgency of imminent attacks, research on a declining or defunct terrorist group is typically more sparse than is the tackling of its origins and evolution. With such an imbalance in the available research, great care must be taken in generalizing about beginnings and endings of specific groups. Recognition of the interplay of internal and external forces in the evolution of terrorism is also crucial. In any given case, there is a complex evolution from political awareness, to the formation (usually) of a terrorist group, to the carrying out of an act. Some steps in this process may be accidental or opportunistic.6 Likewise, the process by which a terrorist group declines may be as much determined by innate factors as by external policies or actors.7 A group may make a bad decision, engage in a counterproductive strategy, or simply implode or collapse. It also may have an innate compulsion to act – for example, the group may be driven to engage in terrorist attacks to maintain support, to shore up its organizational integrity, even to continue its existence.8 Studies of the causes of terrorism frequently begin with analyses of the role of individual operatives or their leaders. These include examinations of the psychologies of individual terrorists,9 ‘profiles’ of terrorists (and future terrorists) and their organizations,10 assessments of the conditions that encourage or enable individuals to resort to terrorism,11 and studies of the distinctive characteristics of terrorist leaders and their followers.12 The relationship between the motivations and characteristics of individual operatives on the one hand, and the means to end their violent attacks on the other, is implied but not always obvious. Another approach especially favoured among terrorism experts is analysing the organizational dynamics of the group. Important late-twentieth-century research concluded that terrorism is essentially a group activity: by understanding the dynamics of the group, including its shared ideological commitment and group identity, analysts can isolate the means of ending its terrorist attacks.13 The focus is thus on the dynamics of relationships between

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members as a way of gaining insight into the vulnerability of the group’s hierarchy, the weaknesses of its organizational structure, the group’s ideology and world-view, and so on, which in turn potentially sheds light on how a group might unravel. Such research analyses the behaviour of the terrorist group from the perspective of the needs of the organization itself, an approach that was particularly influential in studying the behaviour of leftist and ethnonationalist/separatist groups of the 1970s and 1980s.14 Many analysts, however, question the relevance of this well-established approach in an era of decentralized, non-hierarchical cell structures, perpetuated by means of information technology and the tools of globalization.15 The internet’s role in shaping and sustaining global terrorism is emerging as the critical new dimension of twenty-first-century terrorism, with websites and electronic bulletin boards spreading ideological messages, perpetuating terrorist networks, providing links between operatives in cyberspace, and sharing violent images to demonstrate ruthlessness and incite followers to action.16 Likewise, a growing emphasis on individual initiative, the presence of mission-driven organizations operating with an understanding of the ‘commander’s intent’, and a lack of traditional logistical trails all have implications for analysing how terrorist groups end. Cells that operate independently are much more difficult to eliminate and can gain a kind of immortality. Mission-driven groups are designed to be self-perpetuating and may not fit traditional organizational models of how terrorism ends. The nature of the grievance that drives a terrorist organization has some bearing on the speed and likelihood of its decline.17 Modern terrorist groups do not, on average, exist for long; according to David Rapoport, 90 per cent of terrorist organizations have a lifespan of less than one year, and of those that make it to a year, more than half disappear within a decade.18 Whether an organization supports a left-wing, right-wing, or ethnonationalist/separatist cause appears to matter in determining its lifespan. Of those three, groups motivated by ethnonationalist/separatist causes have had the longest average lifespan; their greater average longevity seems to result, at least in part, from support among the local populace of the same ethnicity for the group’s political or territorial objectives.19 It is too soon to compile good data on the average lifespan of contemporary groups motivated by religion (or at least groups that appeal to religious concepts as a mobilizing force); however, the remarkable staying power of early religious terrorist groups such as the Hindu Thugs, in existence for at least 600 years, would seem to indicate the inherent staying power of sacred or spiritually based motivations.20 Finally, because of the degree to which it has been subsidized by governments and biased by later policy imperatives, the role of counter-terrorism is often overemphasized. With easier access to government data, researchers tend naturally to stress state behaviour. The degree to which terrorist groups evolve independent of government action can be underappreciated. The result is a strong bias toward tying decline to specific government policies,

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especially after the fact, although the relationship between cause and effect may be unclear.21 Cycles, stages, waves and phases Some researchers argue that terrorist attacks conform to a temporal pattern that provides insight into increases and reductions in numbers of attacks. Thus another approach to understanding the lifespan of a terrorist movement is to search for identifiable cycles. Todd Sandler and Walter Enders assert that long-term analysis of terrorism trends during the late twentieth century indicates that transnational terrorist attacks run in cycles, with peaks approximately every two years.22 Sandler and Enders’ cycles are tracked across terrorist groups worldwide, shedding light on the likelihood of an attack coming from someone somewhere; indeed, before September 11, they correctly predicted enhanced danger of a highcasualty terrorist attack. But, like strategic intelligence that provided general but not tactical warning of the 9/11 attacks, Sandler and Enders’ findings were of limited use in predicting where the attack would occur, by which group, and by what means. The apparent existence of global statistical patterns is interesting but provides no insight into the decline of specific groups. In his attempt to use mathematical analysis to determine risk assessment for al-Qaeda attacks, John Farley likewise concluded that while the connections between cells can be quantitatively modelled, assumptions about how individual cells operate may be wrong.23 The usefulness of statistical models based on a large number of assumptions to determine a specific group’s decline is limited. Other experts have focused on the existence of developmental stages through which all groups evolve, especially psychological stages of growing alienation or moral disengagement for groups, individuals, or both.24 Leonard Weinberg and Louise Richardson have explored the applicability of a conflict theory framework, including stages of emergence, escalation, and deescalation, to the life cycles of terrorist groups. They conclude that the framework is useful in examining terrorist groups originating or operating in Western Europe in the late twentieth century but urge more research in this area to determine whether it is applicable to other places and periods.25 Still other analysts suggest that there may be developmental stages for specific types of groups. Ehud Sprinzak, for example, argued that right-wing groups exhibit a unique cyclical pattern. Being driven by grievances that are specific to a cultural group, members are directed against ‘enemy’ segments of the population defined by who they are – with regard to race, religion, sexual preference, ethnicity, and so on – not by what they do. To the extent that the government then defends the target population, it becomes a legitimate target. But the cycle of violence reflects underlying factors that may continue to exist, and experiences periods of flare-up and remission depending on the degree to which the government is able to bring campaigns of violence under control.26

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Other researchers study the evolution of terrorist groups as types of social movements and are intellectual descendants of Ted Robert Gurr.27 The more highly developed literature on social movements posits, for example, that terrorism may appear at the end of a cycle of the rise and fall of movements of mass protest.28 Social movements may just as easily be drawn toward more positive means, however. Understanding the pattern of mobilization may be important for dissecting the origins of an established group, but may not be as revealing of its likely end. On the whole, research into social movements gives more insight into the origins of terrorist groups than it does into their decline. Finally, David Rapoport posits another broad hypothesis on the life cycles of terrorist groups. He argues that over the course of modern history waves of international terrorist activity last about a generation (approximately forty years). These waves are characterized by expansion and contraction and have an international character, with similar activities in several countries driven by a common ideology. Two factors are critical to Rapoport’s waves: a transformation in communication or transportation patterns, and a new doctrine or culture. And although a wave is comprised of terrorist organizations and their activities, however, the two need not exist concurrently: Rapoport argues that because most individual organizations have short lifespans, they often disappear before the overarching wave loses its force. The current wave of jihadist terrorism may be different, however, because, unlike earlier waves of the modern era, this one is driven by a religious and not a secular cause. Rapoport is therefore reluctant to predict its end.29 Comparative counter-terrorism cases Cyclical hypotheses are notoriously difficult to formulate and difficult to prove; they can require so much generalization and qualification that their relevance to specific groups becomes remote. As is true of many international security questions, an alternative approach has been to assemble volumes of comparative case studies that draw parallel lessons about terrorist organizations, including how they ended or were defeated.30 But good comparative analyses on terrorism are also difficult, for several reasons. First, studies often look primarily either at the attributes of a group, or at the counter-terrorist policies of a state. Rarely are both considered equally well. Because of the heavy state interest in combating terrorism, the emphasis is understandably on a comparison of counter-terrorist techniques used by states over the life of each group, with policy implications for current challenges. Second, with their focus on a relatively narrow functional question, comparative terrorism cases can fall victim to superficiality: regional experts can be reluctant to cede ground to strategic studies ‘specialists’ whom they consider interlopers in their geographic/linguistic/cultural ambit. For this reason, many comparative studies are edited volumes that are collections of articles by regional experts, but these in turn can fail to control relevant variables and coalesce on a

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central theme. Third, access to data is a big problem: conducting primary research on contemporary terrorist groups is difficult, because making contact with operatives or their targets can be dangerous both for the researchers and their contacts. In addition, governments may restrict access to relevant written sources.31 Fourth, because of the political nature of terrorism, researchers operate at the intersections of sensitive ideas; maintaining objectivity in studying behaviour that is deliberately designed to shock can prove challenging. Finally, studying this phenomenon over a range of terrorist groups in different cultural, historical and political contexts requires generalization and risks the introduction of distortions when making comparisons.32 The best case studies are generally completed years after a group no longer exists; as a result their applicability to current challenges is limited. For any given group, it is vital to identify characteristics that distinguish it from its predecessors, and those that do not.

How terrorist groups have ended There are at least seven broad explanations or critical elements in the decline and ending of terrorist groups in the modern era: (1) the capture or killing of the leader, (2) failure to transition to the next generation, (3) achievement of the group’s aims, (4) transition to a legitimate political process, (5) undermining of popular support, (6) repression, and (7) transitioning from terrorism to other forms of violence. The relevant factors can be both internal and external: terrorist groups implode for reasons that may or may not be related to measures taken against them. Nor are they necessarily separate and distinct; and individual case studies of terrorist groups often reflect more than one dynamic for their decline. The typical focus on government counterterrorist measures slights the capabilities and dynamics of the group itself and is frequently misguided. Even among groups that decline in response to counter-terrorist campaigns, the picture remains complex.33 Counter-terrorist techniques are often best used in combination, and methods overlap: frequently more than one technique has been used to respond to a given group at different times. The goal here is to focus on the historical experience of previous groups and study the commonalities, in both the external and internal variables, so as to determine aspects of the processes of terrorist decline that are relevant to al-Qaeda and other contemporary groups. While listing these key factors separately is admittedly artificial, the following seven catalysts are analysed consecutively for the sake of argument and convenience. Capture or killing of the leader The effects of capturing or killing a terrorist leader have varied greatly, depending upon variables such as the structure of the organization, the degree to which there was a cult of personality, the presence of a viable successor, and whether the leader is killed or imprisoned. Regardless of whether the

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Table 4.1 How terrorist campaigns decline and end Key factors1

Notable historical examples2

Capture/kill leaders

Shining Path Real Irish Republican Army Aum Shinrikyo

Unsuccessful generational transition

Red Brigades Second of June Movement Weather Underground Red Army Faction The Order Aryan Resistance Army

Achievement of the cause

Irgun Zvai Le
umi (Irgun) African National Congress/Umkhonto

Transition to a legitimate political process/ negotiations

Provisional Irish Republican Army Palestinian Liberation Organization Moro Islamic Liberation Front

Loss of popular support

Real Irish Republican Army Basque Homeland and Freedom (ETA) Revolutionary Organization 17 November

Repression

People’s Will (Narodnaya Volya) Shining Path (Sendero Luminoso) Chechen rebels

Transition to other modus operandi: toward criminality

Abu Sayyaf Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC)

toward full insurgency

Khmer Rouge Guatemalan Labor Party/Guatemalan National Revolutionary Unit Communist Party of Nepal-Maoists Kashmiri separatist groups (e.g., Lashkar-e-Toiba and Hizbul Mujahideen) Armed Islamic Group (Algeria)

1 The factors listed are not mutually exclusive and can be found in combination. 2 These are illustrative examples, not a comprehensive list.

removal of a leader results in the demise of the terrorist group, the event normally provides critical insight into the depth and nature of the group’s popular support and usually represents a turning point. Recent examples of groups that were either destroyed or deeply wounded by the capture of a charismatic leader include Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path), the Real Irish Republican Army (RIRA) and Aum Shinrikyo (Aum). All three are designated as ‘foreign terrorist organizations’ by the United States.

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Sendero Luminoso’s leader Manuel Ruben Abimael Guzman Reynoso (aka Guzman) was a highly charismatic philosophy professor who built a powerful Marxist movement through a brutal campaign of executing peasant leaders in Peru’s rural areas during the 1980s and early 1990s. Somewhat ironically, Sendero Luminoso began to engage in violence just after the government undertook extensive land reform and restored democracy to the country; the earliest attacks involved the burning of rural ballot boxes in the 1980 presidential election.34 Increased popular access to a university education enabled Guzman, whose students were often the first in their family to attend college, to radicalize a growing cadre of impressionable young followers. Within the group, Guzman consolidated his power partly through expelling or executing dissenters, resulting in unquestioning obedience but also a highly individualistic leadership. By the early 1990s, Sendero Luminoso had nearly pushed Peru into a state of anarchy. Guzman’s capture on 13 September 1992 dealt the group a crushing blow, not made any easier by images of a humiliated Guzman appearing behind bars, in a striped uniform, recanting and asking his followers to lay down their arms.35 The Real Irish Republican Army is a splinter group of the Provisional Irish Republican Army that split off in 1997 after refusing to participate in the peace process. It conducted a series of attacks in 1998, including the notorious Omagh bombing, which killed twenty-nine people (including nine children) and injured more than two hundred. The Northern Irish community reacted with such outrage that the group declared a ceasefire and claimed that its killing of civilians was inadvertent. In 2000 the RIRA resumed attacks in London and Northern Ireland, focusing exclusively on government and military targets. In March 2001 authorities arrested the group’s leader, Michael (Mickey) McKevitt. From an Irish prison, he and forty other imprisoned members declared that further armed resistance was futile and that the RIRA was ‘at an end’. Aum Shinrikyo (now known as ‘Aleph’) is essentially a religious cult founded in 1987 by Shoko Asahara, a half-blind Japanese mystic. Asahara claimed that the world was approaching the apocalypse and used an eclectic blend of Tibetan Buddhist, Hindu, Taoist and Christian thought to attract an international following, primarily in Japan but also in Australia, Germany, Russia, Sri Lanka, Taiwan and the United States. Asahara declared that the United States would soon initiate Armaggedon by starting World War III with Japan and called on the group’s members to take extraordinary measures in preparation for the attack. The notable aspects of this group are its international reach and its use of so-called weapons of mass destruction, particularly anthrax and sarin gas. In 1995 members of Aum Shinrikyo released sarin gas on the Tokyo subway, resulting in the deaths of twelve people and injury to another 5,000. Asahara was arrested in May 1995 and sentenced to death in February 2004. The group has shrunk from approximately 45,000 members worldwide in 1995 to fewer than 1,000, many of whom live in Russia.36

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These are just a few contemporary cases where the capture or killing of the leader or leaders proved to be an important element in the decline of the organization. Other examples include the arrest of leaders in groups as diverse as France’s Action Directe; El Salvador’s Fuerzas Populares de Liberación; and the US group the Covenant, the Sword, and the Arm of the Lord.37 From a counter-terrorism perspective, however, the killing of the leader can sometimes backfire, resulting in increased publicity for the group’s cause and perhaps the creation of a martyr who attracts new members to the organization (or even subsequent organizations). Che Guevara is the most famous example.38 There is some reason to believe that arrest of a leader is more effective in damaging a group than is killing or assassinating him.39 But even a humiliating arrest can backfire if the incarcerated leader continues to communicate with the group. Sheikh Omar Abd Al-Rahman (the so-called blind sheikh), convicted for conspiracy in the 1993 bombing of the World Trade Center, is a notable example.40 In other cases, imprisoned leaders may prompt further violence by group members trying to free them (e.g. the Baader-Meinhof group and, again, Al-Rahman).41 Thus, if a leader is captured and jailed, undermining his or her credibility and cutting off inflammatory communications are critical to demoralizing his following. Inability to pass the cause to the next generation The failure to transition to the next generation is closely related to the theories that posit that terrorist violence is associated with the rise and fall of generations, but here it is applied to individual case studies. As mentioned above, the nature of the group’s ideology seems to have relevance to the crossgenerational staying power of a group. The left-wing/anarchistic groups of the 1970s, for example, were notorious for their inability to articulate a clear vision of their goals that could be handed down to successors after the first generation of radical leaders departed or were destroyed.42 The Red Brigades, the Second of June Movement, the Japanese Red Army, the Weather Underground Organization/Weathermen, the Symbionese Liberation Army and the Baader-Meinhof Gang43 are all examples of extremely dangerous, violent groups in which a leftist/anarchist ideology became bankrupt, leaving no possibility to transition to a second generation. Right-wing groups, which draw their inspiration from fascist or racist concepts, can also have difficulty persisting over generations, though, as Martha Crenshaw observes, this may reflect the challenges of tracking them rather than the actual disintegration of the group.44 Examples include the numerous neo-Nazi groups in the United States and elsewhere.45 Still, the racist causes of many of these groups can persist long after the disappearance of the group itself; their disappearance underground,46 or their re-emergence under a different name or structure is common.47 Extensive examinations by academic experts and the FBI of right-wing groups in the United States during the 1990s, especially after the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing, revealed their

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tendency to operate according to a common modus operandi, ideology or intent, especially so-called leaderless resistance, which involves individual operatives or small cells functioning independently in pursuit of an understood purpose.48 Such organizational decentralization complicates conclusions about beginnings and endings of right-wing groups; but it also may militate against truly effective generational transition. Furthermore, to support their activities, some right-wing groups also engage in criminal behaviour such as the robbing of banks and armoured cars, racketeering and counterfeiting, which, in the United States, has provided evidence trails for federal authorities and undermined group longevity. The internal process that occurs during a period of transition from first generation leaders is a very sensitive point for a terrorist organization; failure to pass the legacy to a new generation is a common historical explanation for a group’s decline or end. The cause is achieved Some terrorist organizations cease to exist once they have achieved their original aim. Two examples are the Irgun Zvai Le
umi (National Military Organization, also known either by its Hebrew acronym ETZEL, or Irgun), founded in 1931 to violently protect Jews and advance the cause of an independent Jewish state, and the African National Congress (ANC). Menachem Begin, later prime minister of Israel, was the head of Irgun and ordered the 1946 bombing of the King David Hotel, headquarters of British rule in Palestine. The attack killed ninety-two people and hastened the withdrawal of the British. Irgun disbanded with the creation of the state of Israel, when its members transitioned to participation in the new government. The ANC was created in 1912 and turned to terrorist tactics in the 1960s. Its attacks were met with an extremely violent campaign of right-wing counterattacks as the apartheid regime was waning.49 ANC leader Nelson Mandela, imprisoned for terrorist acts from 1964 to 1990, was elected first president of South Africa following the end of apartheid.50 The last ANC attack occurred in 1989, and the organization became a legal political actor in 1990, having achieved its objective of ending the apartheid regime. Walter Laqueur divides terrorist groups that attained their objectives into three groups: (1) those with narrow, clearly defined aims that were realistically attainable; (2) those with powerful outside protectors; and (3) those facing imperial powers that were no longer able or willing to hold on to their colonies or protectorates.51 In the context of twenty-first-century terrorism, additional categories are possible. Although it happens in a minority of cases, using terrorism to achieve an aim does sometimes succeed; to recognize this reality is not to condone the tactic and may even be prerequisite to effectively countering it.

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Negotiations and the transition to a legitimate political process The opening of negotiations can be a catalyst for the decline or end of terrorist groups, potentially engendering a range of effects. Groups have transitioned to political legitimacy and away from terrorist behaviour after the formal opening of a political process. Examples include the Provisional Irish Republican Army (IRA), whose participation in the multi-party talks with the British and Irish governments were crucial to the 1998 Good Friday agreement; and the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), which entered a (yet to be finished) peace process with Israel during the 1990s. But this scenario for a terrorist group’s decline is usually much more complicated than simply the pursuit or achievement of a negotiated agreement. Despite the successful negotiated outcomes that can result between the major parties, a common effect of political processes is the splintering of groups into factions that support the negotiations (or their outcome) and those that do not. For example, the IRA splintered into the Real Irish Republican Army;52 and the PFLP, DFLP and the PFLP-GC split with the PLO over the Israeli–Palestinian peace process, whereas Hamas and the Palestinian Islamic Jihad continued terrorist attacks to undermine the peace process. From a counter-terrorist perspective, dividing groups can be a purpose of the negotiation process, as it isolates and potentially strangles the most radical factions. But such splintering can also occur on the ‘status quo’ (or, usually, pro-government) side, as happened in South Africa (with the Afrikaner white power group Farmer’s Force or ‘Boeremag’) and in Northern Ireland (with the Ulster Volunteer Force). Governments confront huge difficulties negotiating with organizations against which they are still fighting, either in a counter-terrorism campaign or in a traditional war.53 The most extreme case of counterproductive splintering of status quo factions is Colombia, where the signing of the peace accords between the Colombian government and the Ejército Popular de Liberación (EPL) in 1984 resulted in the formation of right-wing paramilitary groups that disagreed with the granting of political status to the EPL. Before long, leftist groups, paramilitary groups and the Colombian Army stepped up their attacks, unravelling the peace, increasing the violence, and further fractionating the political actors. Worse, splinter groups are often more violent than the ‘mother’ organization, responding to the imperative to demonstrate their existence and signal their dissent. Splinter groups can be seen as engaging in a new ‘layer’ of terrorism with respect to the original group or their own government. This can also be the case, for example, when groups enter elections and take on a governing role. In such cases, the long-term goal (a viable political outcome) and the short-term goal (the reduction in violence) may be at odds.54 A wide range of variables can determine the broader outcome of negotiations to end terrorism, including the nature of the organization of the group (with hierarchical groups having an advantage over groups that cannot control their members’ actions), the nature of the leadership of the group (where

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groups with a strong leader have an advantage over those that are decentralized), and the nature of public support for the cause (where groups with ambivalent constituencies may be more likely to compromise). There must also be negotiable aims, which are more likely to exist with territorially based groups than with those that follow left-wing, right-wing or religious/spiritualist ideologies. The degree to which opening a political dialogue with a terrorist group is a likely avenue for the decline of the group and a reduction in violence is a highly differentiated calculation. Negotiations, however, need not be a formalized process and need not occur only with the leadership of a group. Arguably, a form of negotiation with a terrorist organization, or more precisely with its members, is the offer of amnesty to those who will stop engaging in violence and come forth with information about their fellow operatives. The classic case of a successful amnesty is the Italian government’s 1979 and 1982 repentance legislation and the Red Brigades.55 The Fujimori government in Peru also offered amnesty to members of Sendero Luminoso, both after Guzman’s capture and during the waning days of the group. As Robert Art and Louise Richardson point out in their comparative study of state counter-terrorism policies, an amnesty may be most successful when an organization is facing defeat and its members have an incentive to seek a way out of what they see as a losing cause.56 Diminishing popular support Terrorist groups are strategic actors that usually deliberate about their targets and calculate the effects of attacks on their constituent populations. However, they can also undermine their own cause if they miscalculate, resulting in plummeting popular support and even the demise of the group. They generally cannot survive without either active or passive support from a surrounding population. Examples of active support include hiding members, raising money, providing other sustenance and, especially, joining the organization. Passive support, as the phrase implies, is more diffuse and includes actions such as ignoring obvious signs of terrorist group activity, declining to cooperate with police investigations, sending money to organizations that act as fronts for the group, and expressing support for the group’s objectives. Popular support for a terrorist group can dissipate for a number of reasons. First, people who are not especially interested in the political aims of a group may fear government counteraction. Apathy is a powerful force; all else being equal, most people naturally prefer to live their daily lives without the threat of being targeted by counter-terrorism laws, regulations, sanctions, raids and threats. Sometimes even highly radicalized populations can pull back active or passive support for a group, especially if the government engages in strong repressive measures and people simply become exhausted. The apparent loss of local popular support for Chechen terrorist groups is a good example. Second, the government may offer supporters of a terrorist group a better alternative. Reform movements, increased spending, and creation of jobs in

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underserved areas are all tactics that can undermine the sources of terrorist violence. They can also, however, result in increased instability and a heightened sense of opportunity, situations that, in the past, have led to more terrorist acts. Evidence suggests that the extent to which societal conditions lead to a sense of ‘indignation’ or frustrated ambition among certain segments of society during a period of transition might be a crucial factor for the decision to turn to terrorist violence. Sometimes terrorist attacks are seen as an effort to nudge the flow of history further in one’s direction.57 Third, populations can become uninterested in the ideology or objectives of a terrorist group; events can evolve independently such that the group’s aims become outdated or irrelevant. A sense of historical ripeness or opportunity may have been lost. Examples include many of the Marxist groups inspired by communist ideology and supported by the Soviet Union. This is arguably a major reason why the nature of international terrorism has evolved beyond primary reliance upon state sponsorship toward a broader range of entrepreneurial behaviour. Fourth, a terrorist group’s attacks can cause revulsion among its actual or potential public constituency.58 This is a historically common strategic error and can cause the group to implode. Independent of the counter-terrorist activity of a government, a terrorist group may choose a target that a wide range of its constituents consider illegitimate. This occurred, for example, with the Omagh bombings. Despite hasty subsequent statements by RIRA leaders that they did not intend to kill innocent civilians, the group never recovered in the eyes of the community.59 The capture of RIRA leader McKevitt likewise contributed to the group’s demise. Other examples of strategic miscalculation abound. In February 1970 the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine-General Command sabotaged a Swissair plane en route to Tel Aviv, resulting in the death of all forty-seven passengers, fifteen of whom were Israelis. The PFLP-GC first claimed responsibility for the event, but when popular revulsion occurred in response to the attack, it unsuccessfully tried to retract its claim.60 Similarly, there has been strong revulsion among the Basque population in Spain to attacks by the Basque separatist group ETA (Euzkadi Ta Askatasuna) that some observers credit for the declining popularity of the group.61 Public revulsion was a factor in the undermining of support for Sikh separatism in India, a movement directed at establishing an independent state of Khalistan that killed tens of thousands between 1981 and 1995, including assassinating Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi on 31 October 1984.62 Popular revulsion against terrorist attacks can have immediate effects. Arguably the most well-developed and broadly based conduit for resource collection in the world is the connection between the Tamil Tigers and the dispersed Tamil Diaspora. The LTTE’s desire to avoid the ‘terrorist organization’ label in the post-September 11 world and shore up its base of popular support was an element in the group’s December 2001 decision to pursue a negotiated solution.63 Likewise, state-sponsored terrorist groups can lose

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support when the state decides that it is no longer interested in using terrorism, responds to pressure from other states, has more important competing goals, or loses its ability to do so.64 Libya’s expulsion of Abu Nidal and cutting off of support to Palestinian groups such as the PIJ and the PFLP-GC is a notable example. Military force and the repression of terrorist groups The use of military force has hastened the decline of or ended a number of terrorist groups, including Narodnaya Volya, the late-nineteenth-century Russian group, Sendero Luminoso and the Kurdistan Workers’ Party. From the state’s perspective, it offers a readily available means that is under its control. Although terrorism is indeed arguably a form of war, terrorists use asymmetrical violence, by definition, because they are unable or unwilling to meet a status quo government on the battlefield. Shifting the violence to a form that is familiar and probably advantageous for the state is an understandable response. In some circumstances it is also successful. Historically this use of force has taken the form of intervention, when the threat is located mainly beyond the borders of the target state (as with Israeli’s 1982 involvement in Lebanon); or repression, when the threat is considered mainly a domestic one (as with the PKK); or, as is typically the case, some combination of the two (as in Colombia).65 The effects of the use of repressive military force in some cases may prove to be temporary or counterproductive; in other cases, it may result in the export of the problem to another country. The classic contemporary case is the Russian counter-terrorism campaign in Chechnya.66 The Russian involvement in the second Chechen war resulted in a transition in the Chechen resistance, with more terrorist attacks in the rest of Russia, greater reliance on suicide attacks, and the growing influence of militant Islamic fighters. To the extent that the Chechens originally engaged in a classic insurgency rather than in terrorism, after 2002 they altered their tactics toward increasing attacks on Russian civilians. The strong repressive response by the Russian government also seemed to facilitate the spread of the conflict to neighbouring areas, including Ingushetia and Dagestan. The situation in Chechnya itself is now more peaceful, with extensive rebuilding being financed by the Russian government; however, the surrounding North Caucasus republics continue to pose a challenge.67 Democracies or liberal governments face particular difficulties in repressing terrorist groups. Because military or police action requires a target, the use of force against operatives works best in situations where members of the organization can be separated from the general population. This essentially forces ‘profiling’ or some method of distinguishing members from nonmembers – always a sensitive issue, particularly when the only available means of discrimination relates to how members are defined (race, age, religion, nationality, etc.) rather than what they do (or are planning to do).

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Excellent intelligence is essential for the latter, especially in advance of an attack, but even in the best of situations it is typically scarce. Repressive measures also carry high resource and opportunity costs. Long-term repressive measures against suspected operatives may challenge civil liberties and human rights, undermine domestic support, polarize political parties, and strain the fabric of the state itself, thus further undercutting its ability to respond effectively to future terrorist attacks. Transition to other modus operandi In some cases, groups can transition out of the use of terrorism toward either criminal behaviour or more classic conventional warfare. Transition to criminal behaviour implies shifting away from a primary emphasis on collecting resources as a means of pursuing political ends toward acquiring material goods and profit that become ends in themselves. Groups that have undertaken such transitions in recent years include Abu Sayyaf in the Philippines and arguably all of the major so-called narco-terrorist groups in Colombia.68 Beginning in 2000, Abu Sayyaf shifted its focus from bombings and targeted executions toward capturing foreign hostages and exchanging them for millions of dollars in ransom.69 The Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) uses a variety of mechanisms to raise funds, including kidnapping for ransom, extortion, and especially drug trafficking, running operations that yield as much as a billion dollars annually.70 Terrorist groups can also escalate to insurgency or even conventional war, especially if they are supported by a state. Notable examples include the Kashmiri separatist groups, the Khmer Rouge and the Communist Party of Nepal-Maoists. Transitions in and out of insurgency are especially common among ethnonationalist/separatist groups, whose connection to a territory and grounding in an ethnic population provide a natural base; in these situations, the evolution involved changes in size or type of operations (do they operate as a military unit and attack mainly other military targets?), and whether or not the organization holds territory (even temporarily). Terrorism and insurgency are not the same thing; but they are cousins. Very weak territorially based movements use terrorist attacks and transition to insurgency when they gain strength, especially when (as was the case for most groups in the twentieth century) their enemy is a state government. One example is the Armed Islamic Group of Algeria, which massacred tens of thousands of civilians in the civil war that followed the Islamic Salvation Front’s victory in the 1991 parliamentary elections. The key to understanding the relationship between the two tactics for a particular group is to analyse the group’s motivation, attraction to a constituency, strength, and degree to which its goals are associated with control of a piece of territory. Transitions to full-blown conventional war, on the other hand, can occur when the group is able to control the behaviour of a state according to its own interests, or even when an act of terrorism has completely unintended consequences.71

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Conclusions Understanding how terrorist campaigns meet their demise is important not only so as to recognize classic patterns of ending when they appear, but also to formulate and adapt intelligent policies that push them towards the end. Policies that fail to understand the lifespans of groups, that treat them as if they were immortal, are destined to prolong the dynamics of terrorist campaigns. Many groups draw their strength from the actions or reactions of states and thereby leverage their ability to survive. Comprehending the conditions under which groups end enables policy-makers to anticipate and take advantage of leverage points, of situations where such things as targeting mistakes, internal factional in-fighting or popular revulsion to groups can be exploited to facilitate their end. The key is to work synergistically with the dynamics of terrorist groups, to recognize the conditions under which each of the seven patterns described here are either relevant or irrelevant to the exact circumstances and nature of individual campaigns. To rise above the appalling tragedy of this violence against non-combatants and formulate an effective long-term strategy, wise policy-makers doggedly bear in mind an image of the outcome and drive toward it. Although terrorism, like war, never ends, individual terrorist campaigns and the groups that wage them always do.

5

Leaving underground organizations A sociological analysis of the Italian case Donatella della Porta

Leaving the underground arena: an introduction Although political violence as a whole in Italy covered a long period, the history of individual underground groups was usually very short. Only the Brigate Rosse (BR, Red Brigades) survived, albeit in a state of organizational crisis, for more than a decade. The other long-running organization, Prima Linea (PL, Front Line), existed (under different names) for seven years, although it only represented an effective ‘threat’ for four years. The history of the Nuclei armati proletari (NAP) spanned three short years between its creation in 1974 and dissolution in 1976. Few of the other groups survived beyond their first year: the Unità comuniste combattenti (UCC) only lasted from 1976 to 1977; the Formazioni comuniste combattenti (FCC), created in the summer of 1977, ceased to exist in February 1979; the Reparti comunisti armati (RCA) and the Movimento comunista rivoluzionario (MCR) were active between 1979 and the beginning of 1981; the Guerrigila rossa, created at the beginning of 1979, had already changed its name by March of the same year and disappeared entirely in the summer of 1980; the Nuclei carried out their first action in June 1981 and their last in November 1982; the Proletari armati per il comunismo (PAC) operated between 1978 and 1979; the final actions of Per il comunismo were carried out between December 1979 and January 1980; and the history of the Brigada Lo Muscio barely lasted ten months, from January to October 1980. Generally speaking, the immediate reason behind the disappearance of these groups was the arrest or death of their activists. Seven members of NAP died in gun battles with the police or accidental explosions, while many others were arrested. The FCC crisis was closely linked to the arrest of its founder, Corrado Alunni, in October 1978. PAC ceased to exist when, a few months after the group’s creation, most of its supporters were already in prison. Similarly, Nuclei disappeared in 1983 after the arrest of all its members. The immediate reasons behind the defeats of the Guerriglia rossa and the Brigata Lo Muscio were similar: between the summer and autumn of 1980, confessions by their respective leaders led to the sentencing of all their followers. In the end, the organizational development of the different strands of the BR

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was also decisively marked by the results of police and judicial investigations. As early as the beginning of the 1970s, the infiltration of the ‘armed monk’ and cross-checks at the land registry office had led to the discovery of various dens and the arrest of many activists: only one member of the first Executive Committee escaped arrest and most of the founders were in prison by the end of 1976. Following a new intense recruitment drive over the next two years, from 1980 onwards confessions by various members of the organization led to the arrest of a large number of activists at all levels. The PL crisis was also initially caused by the long series of arrests which hit the organization in 1979 and 1980. The disappearance of underground organizations was therefore due to a lack of activists – or at least a lack of activists living at liberty. But what were the reasons behind these setbacks? Why were these organizations not able to integrate new recruits into the groups decimated by arrests? I will suggest some answers to these questions, trying to combine consideration of environmental, organizational and individual dynamics in a sociological analysis of the decline of underground organizations. This is not the easiest of objectives, combining as it does two theoretic (semi-) vacuums. On the one hand, it has long been considered that literature on terrorism has lacked explanatory theories as to why terrorism appears in a society, grows (sometimes) and then (usually) declines. Moreover, of the existing interpretations many prefer either a macro-systemic dimension or a microindividual one. At macro level, correlations between economic, social and political characteristics and the spread of the phenomenon have been studied; at micro level, the psychological characteristics of the individuals involved in terrorist acts have been analysed. Sociological interpretations of the interaction between individuals and society are still limited. On the other hand, and most significantly, the phenomena variously defined as abandonment, defection, decline or defeat have been little explored in sociological literature. In his recent work on ‘activist disengagement’, Olivier Fillieule (2005) singled out a few trends that, essentially incidentally, touched on themes linked to this: the sociology of religion has looked at conversion, the sociology of family at divorce, labour sociology at professional mobility, and political sociology at cycles of public commitment. These studies can help us develop some hypotheses and therefore consider their significance in an analysis of the decline of underground organizations. Explanations for abandonment can be found at three different analytical levels: macro, meso and micro. As we will see, all three levels of analysis are useful, but their interaction in particular needs to be studied in detail. Although environmental characteristics certainly influence individual behaviour, the mechanisms (cognitive and emotional) through which the macro dimension filters through to the micro should be identified (the macro–micro link in Coleman’s theory, 1986). External events and conditions have a bearing on participation through the perception that individuals have of these

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events and how they interpret and process them. Taking the individual level, the interactive dimension of subjective existence needs to be considered, i.e. the way choices are influenced by an individual’s circles of reference, whether real or imagined (Pizzorno 2007), and the variety of their roles (Fillieule 2005). Finally, whether abandonment, like recruitment, is also essentially a (relatively quick) process of development from one project to another needs to be considered. Before discussing these interpretations in more detail, the concept of decline and its various forms should be examined. Firstly, abandonment can be either voluntary or forced, depending on whether an individual makes a choice or is constrained to adopt certain behaviour. Arrest and, more rarely, death through terrorism and dismissal from union political activism (Labbé and Croisat 1992; Klandermans 2005) are all causes of forced departure. The abandonment path can also be fairly long and difficult. Stages of departure have been identified, with a period of incoherency as regards identity tending to precede a real and proper exit (Pudal 2005, 168). Finally, the abandonment path can be taken either individually or collectively involving a variety of people from the same group. Leaving terrorism behind can mean either renouncing the use of weapons or abandoning the organization – two events which rarely coincide (on modes of disengagement, see the Introduction in this volume). The first, often linked to arrest, does not in itself mean giving up membership of an organization. Moreover, the different positions taken as regards a specific organization and the armed struggle need to be distinguished: in the context of frequent sectarianism and isolation, departure from one group does not necessarily precede moving away from the armed struggle as a whole but rather recruitment to or creation of another underground organization. Forms of abandonment have often been linked to types of previous commitment, both as regards the individual position and the characteristics of a group. In general, the greater the price of admission, the greater the price, be it material and/or psychological, of defection (Kanter 1972). Participation levels in terrorist groups are certainly very varied, as are the psychological and material price and the intensity of commitment. For many, support for underground groups was less binding, from both a material and psychological point of view, than many stereotypes of ‘professional terrorists’ lead one to believe. In the case of left-wing terrorism in Italy, for example, only 11 per cent of activists out of the more than 1,000 I studied during earlier research (equal to 129 individuals) were in hiding (della Porta 1990).1 Moreover, a good 66.8 per cent of activists had never participated in action against people, and 40 per cent had never been involved in any armed action. Only 6 per cent had been members of ‘fire groups’, i.e. employed prevailingly for military-style action, while 44 per cent had carried out exclusively ‘logistical/administrative’ duties (see Horgan, chapter 2 of this volume). Moreover, the duration of political activism within an underground group was usually short.

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Below, I will discuss the possible paths for leaving underground organizations and the environmental (the macro dimension), organizational (the meso dimension), and the individual (the micro dimension) processes, through biographical information stemming both from the life history of activists in underground organizations in Italy gathered in earlier research (della Porta 1990), and recently published autobiographies by and interviews with former militants of underground organizations. This methodological choice reflects the attention given to the social construction of reality as a filter between environmental conditions and individual action.2

Environmental opportunities At macro level, it can be observed that careers within political organizations are certainly influenced by external environmental conditions that represent opportunities for and constrains upon individual careers. Firstly, environmental circumstances have a bearing on the calculation of the costs and material individual advantages that, according to rational choice approaches, represent the main motives for collective action. On the other hand, for those who believe that political activity is (also) motivated by achieving the common good, environmental conditions have a bearing on the expectations of the efficiency of one’s behaviour. Abandonment of a peace movement in the Netherlands in the second half of the 1980s was therefore explained by, amongst other things, the clear inability of the protest not only to have a bearing on decisions to deploy NATO nuclear missiles, but also to bring about electoral losses for the parties that had supported it (Klandermans 2005). In particular as regards activist careers, the mixture of repression and facilitation, typical of various regimes, which could influence not only the perception of the risks of radical action but also of possible alternatives, has been studied (Tilly 2003). Departure: repression and facilitation In the case of armed groups, exit strategies are certainly influenced by the efficiency of repression, but they are also influenced by the offer of conversion opportunities (Sommier 2005, 177). In analysis of terrorism careers, the environment has been studied particularly as regards repression policies which, in an assumption of rational choice, should increase the individual price of participation in underground activities. However, it has been observed that repression in itself does not lead to abandoning action. If repression is perceived as being too ‘hard’, it can perversely create feelings of solidarity: in Germany, for example, a second wave of recruitment to the Rote Armee Fraktion (Red Army Fraction, RAF), and other underground groups occurred in organizations supporting imprisoned activists (della Porta 1995). In Italy, the defeat of terrorist organizations was made easier by policy measures which facilitated breaking the associative pact by reducing the

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psychological costs of leaving – from creating ‘homogeneous areas’ for prisoners serving sentences for terrorist offences to extending some reductions in sentences to all those who publicly declared that they would leave (or had left) the ‘armed struggle’ (della Porta 1993). The crisis in underground organizations was accelerated by some ‘award measures’ provided for by the 1980 anti-terrorism law, varying from non-punishment to reducing sentences by half and non-application of aggravating circumstances for members of terrorist organizations who had decided to collaborate with the investigating authorities. It was, at least on the surface, particularly thanks to these confessions that the state machinery managed to achieve its first consistent victories in the fight against terrorism. In a similar direction, two years later a new law (Law 304/1982) established that reductions in sentences would be scaled in relation to the extent of collaboration and the importance of the contribution provided: life sentences were reduced to 10 to 12 years where decisive proof leading to identification of accomplices was provided, and a further reduction by a third was made for exceptional contributions that led to the disbanding of entire armed groups. In particular, the new law allowed reductions to be extended to those who did not collaborate with investigations but who confessed to their own involvement in offences; in these cases, the life sentence was substituted for a sentence of between 15 and 21 years. Finally, merely belonging to an underground organization and other minor crimes were considered unpunishable if the accused left the armed organization. Promoted by some of the prosecutors involved in terrorism investigations, the law was described by the then Minister of the Interior as being effective in meeting its stated goal (Rognoni 1989). Avoiding the obligation to denounce comrades to benefit from reduced sentences, the law took into account the high psychological cost of betraying one’s own comrades.3 Instead, these laws encouraged group action and therefore an act of political criticism for terrorism from within – since, as the former BR member Alfredo Buonavita recalls, ‘you can’t wage a political battle if you leave by yourself, that’s not the right way’ (quoted in Catanzaro and Manconi 1995, 149). And vice versa, the law on dissociazione (declaration of abandoning the ‘armed struggle’) favoured declarations dissolving entire underground organizations such as PL. In fact, as one activist in this organization recalls, defining PL as ‘the richest group in terms of human relationships’, ‘perhaps it is not paradoxical that we waited a year before reaching a collective decision to disband, precisely because we aspire to have long-lasting positive relationships. This thing is not unimportant, people who knew to wait for the others’ (Catanzaro and Manconi 1995, 315). Many members of armed groups benefited from the possibilities offered by these legislative measures, thereby breaking the pact of allegiance to the organization. According to data provided by the Ministry of Justice, upon expiration of the terms fixed in the law on dissociazione (120 days and then extended by as much again), 389 people had benefited from it: 78 as ‘great repenters’, 134 as ‘repenters’ and 177 as ‘dissolvers’. With few exceptions,

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activists of underground left-wing groups in prison successively and in various ways publicly declared that the ‘armed struggle’ in Italy was over. In order, the beginning of the 1990s saw a moving away from terrorism by Prima Linea activists (who disbanded their organization) and those involved in the so-called ‘investigations of 7 April’ (which published The Manifesto, a Document of the 51). Shortly afterwards would come the dissolution of the founders of the Red Brigades, such as Franceschini and Ognibene who, after going on hunger strike in December 1983 to protest against conditions in special prisons (Article 90), would declare that the historical phase of the armed struggle was over. This decision would be echoed by other activists from the historical nucleus, including Curcio who, in January 1987, issued a statement in which he claimed that ‘the social battle of the 1970s is historically exhausted’ and requested a ‘political and social way out of the cycle of violence of the 1970s’ (quoted in Gallinari 2006, 329). Lamenting political errors and admitting defeat, another nucleus of the BR would claim ‘Today, October 1988, the Red Brigades overlap de facto with the political prisoners of the Red Brigades’ (ibid., 340). This dissolution process was encouraged by the creation in prisons of ‘homogeneous areas’, i.e. areas where prisoners from underground organizations who publicly distanced themselves from the armed struggle could assemble with those with whom they considered themselves ideologically (or emotionally) close and benefit from more favourable detention conditions. The project began in San Vittore Prison in Milan at the request of a group of ‘political prisoners who – according to one of them – no longer have anything to do with the armed organizations, not even in individual cases, and are therefore all “exes”; these people are united by favourable conditions for remembering’ (Catanzaro and Manconi 1995, 75). Shortly afterwards in the Roman Prison of Rebibbia, the ‘document of the 51’ (according to one activist, ‘the first document of political dissociazione in Italy’; ibid., 281), produced by prisoners in the homogeneous areas, began the separation process by groups of activists. One of the founders of the BR, Prospero Gallinari, had this to say about the granting of ‘homogeneous areas’ (2006, 279): ‘In prison, this campaign had devastating effects. Not least because it came up against what the Partito Guerriglia were encouraging – they preached a head-on collision . . . doubts spread. Many friends disappeared overnight, headed for the homogeneous areas quickly put at their disposal by the Ministry to foster defections. This situation quickly led to dialectic madness and internal contradictions. It was enough just to have given the judge something, a minimum, not glorious certainly but all things considered only a small concession, to be declared enemies.’ The above-mentioned effects of the homogeneous areas were facilitated by the widespread doubts over the future of the armed struggle. Again according to Gallinari, ‘It is certainly not new but it is not badly thought of either, the power strategy. Diverging treatment and prospects tear open the prison environment and subsequently encourage crises among political prisoners.

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Many comrades were already assailed with doubts and questions. The Ministry’s prison policy required clear political horizons and impartial ethical motivations if it were to be handled with the necessary strength and patience. But this itself was increasingly lacking’ (2006, 302). So, the perception of social and political defeat interacted with the opportunity offered by the new laws. Significantly, during the Moro trial in October 1982 a group of prisoners would read a document which said: The armed struggle, or the conquest of the State by the working classes through the use of weapons, has long found its assumptions to be exhausted. The course of the armed struggle, in Italy and the West, has been the stage for the extreme portrayal of the crisis of the left-wing myths or, if you like, the myth of the great Working Class Revolution. Its most recent product, terrorism, ideology and religion, has accentuated and accelerated the contradictory nature of this strategy . . . Because a generational cycle is closing, ending, a cycle in which . . . the enrichment of social change and the long marches, the social democracy of assemblies and the Jacobin fascination with the steel party, went into a spin. The push forward of the October Revolution and the Welfare State is being halted now by events . . . It’s about expressing ten years of subversive struggle in Italy precisely to prevent the story being rewritten hypocritically. It’s about defending the reasons for our opposition with the same severity as we criticize the madness, myths, sins and mistakes.’ (in Morucci 2004, 234) The environment influences the various forms of political participation through the perception of a widespread essentially encouraging culture. As Albert Hirschman observed in Shifting Involvements (1982), public commitment tends to fluctuate in cycles. Research on social movements has also observed the presence of cycles of protest with dynamics of emergence, peak and decline, and they in turn are sometimes interwoven with cycles of political violence (Tarrow 1989; della Porta 1995; della Porta and Tarro 1986). The end of the armed struggle was also actually motivated by the realization by activists in underground organizations of the end of a protest cycle. Departure and external support Given that activists in armed groups preserve a political purpose, they also look in their surroundings for confirmation of their own choices. It is true that, underground organizations being totalitarian institutions that strongly limit the range of cognitive sources, consideration of the outside reality is normally filtered through a storyline that highlights the successes of the ‘armed struggle’. References to the sympathy that the armed struggle earned, even among many who did not directly participate in it, are very widespread in recollections by former activists: ‘We were radicalized. We had a real

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presence at Fiat, Pirelli. There’s a connection with the class. You had your factory brigade’ (Life history no. 7, p. 9); ‘The day after the murder of Pedenovi [. . .] there were hundreds of people who congratulated people they singled out in the area where such a thing might have happened’ (Life history no. 29, 30); ‘In the space of a few months, you began to see with your own eyes that it was a hypothesis that could make it [. . .] could take root on, let’s say, a mass level’ (Life history no. 28, 41). Although signs of ‘victory’ were over the top, the defeats both of underground organizations and the collective movements to which they referred were denied or, at most, considered to be indications of the need to ‘prepare for a different phase’. However, it is also true that signs of defeat also filter through to the closed environment of underground organizations sooner or later. In many accounts by activists, departure from terrorism is linked to a perception of the inefficiency of the armed struggle. A few early signs were immediately noticeable in defeat, which in the accounts are described as ‘friends who started to drink’, ‘heroin that penetrated the environment of the revolutionary left’, ‘increasingly frequent defections’ (della Porta 1990, chapter 4). Moreover, when judging the efficiency of the armed struggle, the perception of achievements through violence and underground action spread in potential recruitment areas (over a fairly long period) has a bearing. Although underground organizations tend to progressively isolate themselves from the world around them and to propose an increasingly elitist vision of action, in most cases they see themselves as part of a wider movement. One former PL supporter declares, for example, with regard to the progressive reduction of the network of external sympathizers available to offer logistical help: ‘When this sort of character who, despite appearances, holds the life of the organization in his hands, starts to break away, you sense it, even if you dismiss it ideologically, you sense that people are quitting in the background, and in practice all the apparatus starts to stiffen up, so you end up with a large number of people in hiding and you don’t know where to keep them, you have to start multiplying funding activities and by multiplying those you start to multiply incidents, deaths, injuries, arrests’ (Life history no. 12, 38). These latent tensions exploded in the face of some precipitating events. As Bert Klandermans observed when comparing abandonment paths in union and peace movements, ‘Insufficient gratifications, combined with declining commitment, are translated into a growing intention to defect. It is at this point that a critical event influences the balance and produces the exiting’ (Klandermans 2005, 95). Among them, former supporters recall episodes they considered particularly cruel. Valerio Morucci, leader of the Roman ‘Column’ of the BR, claimed that his crisis began with the killing of Aldo Moro4 and subsequently of the worker and trade unionist Guido Rossa, accused of denouncing a BR activist – ‘the BR meanwhile were pursuing their path. And, obviously, I no longer shared it. The last straw was the killing of Guido Rossa in Rome . . . I wrote that the murder of Guido Rossa had

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been a serious mistake. All of us in the BR thought so – except the people who killed him.’ The BR ‘just continued killing and we couldn’t take it any more’ (Morucci 2004, 203). And so, a former activist for an underground organization recalls his ‘immense pain’ and ‘indescribable loss’ over the death of two of his comrades during a robbery: ‘A month passed before I was arrested and in that month the only clear memory that I have is that there was a lot to correct. The doubts I had before exploded. The impact between motivations and reality produced a severe, decisive crisis that I live alone and communicate to the group. The group, in inverted commas obviously, unravelled and dispersed and my crisis was very obvious . . .’ (in Catanzaro and Manconi 1995, 279). Over and above the cyclic or contingent dimension, research on the decline of membership of unions or communist parties has pointed to a passing ‘from the march to the post-it’ (Fillieule 2005, 25). While some organizations remain tied to totalitarian and hierarchical structures, contemporary activists seem to prefer temporary mobilization on often changeable themes – ‘to project’, to use Anna Curcio’s expression (2006). Moreover, while the typical mobilizations of the last century tended to privilege strong images of collective and unitary matters, postmodern culture is more predisposed towards exploiting individual subjectivities within flexible structures and identities which are tolerant of diversity (della Porta 2005; Ion 1997). The emergence of underground groups corresponded with a crisis among collective movements and their organizations that touched the very foundations of the dominant political culture (and not just in Italy). According to some interpretations, widespread justification for the use of violence reached Italy in the 1970s because of a prevalence in the social movement sector for a particular type of political culture. Its main characteristics were described as the supremacy of Third International models, voluntaristic use of ‘workerism’ and the verbal extremism of the increasing number of groups in competition with the ‘revisionism’ of the Communist Party. Ideological components such as the myth of imminent revolution, the definition of democracy as a mask hiding exploitation, scorn for human life, the supremacy of ideology over theory, and the sacrifice of the individual for the common good are considered to be cultural preconditions for the emergence of terrorism. The debate on terrorism accelerated criticism of this sort of culture through closer examination of some main themes, some of which were already evident during the protest movements of the late 1960s: the wrongs of bureaucratic centralism, the mistakes of the Leninist theory of the state, the negative consequences of the end justifying the means, re-evaluation of the needs of the individual. These new elements of the emerging political culture reduced the propensity for political violence, which is not only illegitimate in terms of ideology but also has limited ability to take root in groups characterized by non-totalitarian activism, little organizational structure and which are prevailingly non-violent in nature. Attempts by residual fractions of the BR to

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infiltrate the peace movement did not end positively for them. The same can be said for the most recent movement for global justice that claims to support non-violent ideals (della Porta 2007).

Organizational dynamics Obviously, the organizational level has a bearing on the choices made by members of different sorts of groups. Firstly, the type of organizational structure in place determines the incentives and motivations to commit and defect. Abandonment will be more complex and difficult for those groups that, like underground organizations, are exclusive/totalitarian and place importance on emotional ties with a group, not only through rigid controls but also through affiliation rituals (Kanter 1972). Participation in armed groups certainly presents peculiarities when compared with other political organizations. It differs firstly because of the high level of commitment expected, both in terms of time and resources dedicated to the group. While most political organizations are satisfied with achieving integration of their members simply through participation in elections or though an identification with the group which is limited to the political sphere, an underground organization needs total commitment from its supporters. The very fact of being an underground group requires commitment to it to become the absolute priority with respect to the other roles an individual plays. Moreover, choosing to be an underground group involves reducing relationships with the outside world and profoundly disturbing daily life, even when going on the run is not necessary. Finally, there are certainly notable risks: being arrested and sentenced to a long prison sentence, not to mention the possibility of being killed. Organizational implosion The difficulty of leaving is connected to the intensity of support. Experiences of ending political support are described as being particularly painful. One activist from the Italian Autonomia italiana recalls that ‘it was a devastating experience, to go back home, to give up, when at the same time some of our comrades, who were recognized as the most generous, the most available ones, they were instead imprisoned, or they were killing other people’ (in Sommier 2005, 178). A sense of solidarity certainly slowed down the process of moving away from an organization, especially as long as the only possible option was to choose between ‘repentance’ – and denouncing comrades – or unshakeable loyalty to the organization. In the words of one former activist, ‘You knew that these weren’t your BR any more but this is disappointing and admitting disappointment is always hard if you’ve dedicated your life to something [. . .] It’s a very difficult individual decision. I thought about killing myself twice’ (Life history no. 7, 10–11). In fact, for a long time the widespread perception was that:

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However, the beginning of awareness of the weakness of the armed struggle project leads to a transformation of the meaning of formerly accepted behaviour. The use of violence ‘became more serious when it became useless, and it therefore became a useless scattering of blood while before it was part of a context that justified it’ (Life history no. 19, 74) or even ‘When the revolutionary programme loses credibility, the dead are still murdered dead’ (Life history no. 24, 60). Following arrest, the prospect of a long prison sentence becomes much more dramatic when a person admits the weakness of his own life project and, consequently, ends the illusion that liberation can come from the outside: ‘It is impossible for a person who was ready to undergo a long prison sentence or even death to construct a communist society, and when he realizes that an irreversible reverse process is happening, i.e. when the political defeat is confirmed by the facts, to pay such a high price so easily’ (Life history no. 24, 59–60). Thus, slowly, the perception of breaking the bonds of solidarity due to growing, if limited, ‘repentance’ is added to the growing awareness of the crisis in the underground organization, accentuated by the impossibility of resisting arrests and recruiting from new social movements. Generally speaking, it has been observed that organizational characteristics and paths can provoke forceful abandonment: an organization can disband, split or expel some members. Particularly dramatic or rapid organizational changes can lead to the defection of those who were most strongly identified with the original model. The crisis of the French Communist Party in a mining basin was thus linked by an old activist upon the entry of new activists: ‘young people who want to change everything, who have destroyed everything, discipline, class struggle, who wanted to teach us about activism, us, with all we went through’ (Leclerc 2005, 149). In the Dutch peace movement, some defections are related to the very success of mobilizations against the deployment of NATO nuclear missile testing which had led to activists from other movements joining with different practices and motivations from those of the original nucleus (Klandermans 2005). Underground organizations certainly change over time. The very choice of

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being underground sparks an evolutionary process that none of the terrorist organizations managed to stop and which led to their crisis and disappearance. In the words of a former leader of the BR: ‘It’s as if the organization followed an independent path of laws that are not its own and become at that moment the laws of defeat and are therefore also determined by rivals’ (Life history no. 27, 4). In the evolution of armed groups, the increasing brutality of their actions ended up disgusting their own activists. While transformations in organizational structure contributed to their isolation, the forms of their action became more violent and objectives become linked less to propaganda. The initial preference for only attacking property leads increasingly to physically harming people and ending with a prevalence for the cruellest action of all – assassination. In parallel, the targets chosen by criminals were also transformed, with a gradual rejection of propaganda action and increasing frequency of action aimed at ‘defending the organization’ from state repression. Many activists in underground organizations refer to their disappointment in perceiving that their group was changing from its form under the original project. Alfredo Buonavita, one of the founders of the BR and imprisoned in 1974, would leave the organization still holding up the difference between the first historical nucleus of the BR (a pacifist movement) and the others (militaristic and murderous) (quoted in Gallinari 2006, 257–8). Buonavita would speak of his ‘disgust as regards a practice that was no longer suitable for me in simple human terms’ and that ‘a part always continues to want to break with this thing and yet there is an inability and impossibility to reach an agreement’ (in Catanzaro and Manconi 1995, 148–9). The organization’s own image was being transformed while the underground movement’s way of thinking and arrests were making relationships with other members increasingly impersonal: ‘This organization that is tearing itself apart for not providing solutions to problems and that can’t find a way out of this impasse [. . .] Nearly all the people I knew were in prison, that is the people I had started out with were no longer there, there were no more links, there was nothing, everyone ended up in prison [. . .] at that moment I understood what had happened – the fact that really we had nothing to present, nothing to propose’ (Life history no. 27, 56). The degeneration of personal relationships Finally, especially at turning points, internal tensions lead to internal fractionalization. Generally speaking, where there are internal conflicts defections are often motivated by an ideological disagreement over the right direction to take5 and deteriorating relations and internal sociality generally, seen by supporters to be the end of harmony (Leclerc 2005 on PCF). Organizational fractionalization, as characterized by the evolutionary dynamic, is evident for example in the organization that survived the longest: the BR. Until the end of the 1970s, the organization had not suffered any divisions – beyond the

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departure of three of its leaders at the start of the decade. The end of the decade, however, would witness a series of successive splits. Internal conflicts were the expression of different strategies to deal with organizational difficulties. The common element of the various separatist groups was the accusation made to the national leaders of ‘militarism’, then defined as ‘detachment from the political attitude to intervention’. Such a criticism was expressed by activists involved in the first division which took place in 1979. In a document sent to the daily paper Lotta continua (‘The struggle continues’), a groups of dissidents (the most well known being Adriana Faranda and Valerio Morucci) accused the founders of the organization of disconnecting from their base and not understanding current social transformations. The organization’s reply to these criticisms was verbally very violent but, a few months later, the main spokesmen of the first generation of the BR themselves, who were serving sentences at Asinara Prison, courted controversy with the new leaders, accusing them of ‘bureaucratic and militaristic detours’, of being ‘incapable of participating with the people’, of ‘bad management of the Moro kidnapping’ and, furthermore, of excluding activists in prison from the internal debate over the organization. This break was diplomatically straightened out for tactical reasons but the brigadiers of the ‘historical nucleus’ would subsequently support the creation of other separatist groups such as the Colonna Walter Alasia in Milan or, in 1981, the last division of the Fronte carceri which would lead on to the Partito della guerriglia del proletariato metropolitano. In these cases too, the main criticism of the leaders of the organization was that they had lost touch with collective movements. Fractionalization became particularly acute in the 1980s when defeats were perceived, to which various groups proposed different solutions. For the Brigate Rosse, this was a phase of virulent division between the Brigate rosse Partito della guerriglia and the Brigate rosse per la formazione del partito combattente, that divided not only supporters outside prison but also those inside. In this case too, abandonment was connected to the way the divisions were perceived by activists. This is how this phase was recalled by Prospero Gallinari who, from prison, would support the action of the second, while other founders of the BR (including Curcio) were supporting the first: ‘This is Novara and these are us. The break of a generation. We are so increasingly small that, at best, we hate each other cordially. But this prison framework also represents a break from the outside world, from the state where you find not only what’s left of the armed struggle but all social movements’ (Gallinari 2006, 319). Among the organizational developments presented as being the most difficult to justify are internal vendettas and murders. Valerio Morucci, speaking of ‘massacre’, would write: ‘When the Revolution goes to wrack and ruin, gangs appear whose initial political characteristics are surpassed by individual resentments or even, if you look more closely, individual neuroses’ (Morucci 2004, 218). The ‘massacre’ Morucci speaks of would produce violence in prisons, with the killing by their comrades of Giorgio Soldati and

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Ennio Di Rocco, one at Cuneo Prison and the other at Trani Prison: ‘all young, all kids. Killed by those who should have been their brothers. They were boys that few or no one knew . . . Yes, this is the darkest day’ (ibid., 219). And a former PL supporter would recall the killing of a presumed ‘informer’ as ‘the element that makes me say I don’t even see them any more’ (in Catanzaro and Manconi 1995, 73). Similarly, Gallinari comments on the killing of two sworn guards during a robbery by the Brigate Rosse Partito guerriglia, a killing carried out to highlight news of a presumed betrayal of one of their supporters: ‘21 October 1982, the news that came over the radio is totally absurd . . . it is totally shocking. Doubts about the political position and combative practices of the Partito Guerriglia had only increased amongst us in the last few months. But such an implosion had never entered our heads’ (Gallinari 2006, 281).

Micro dynamics – the individual and society An important line of research in studies on political participation has looked at individual characteristics. In rational choice approaches, these characteristics influence the calculation of the price and benefits of participation which can then be balanced against those of other potential alternatives. Institutional or symbolic approaches have looked more at the socialization of individuals to norms and/or rituals and their long-lasting effects. Biographical availability From both points of view, research on the most intense forms of participation have looked at the biographical availabilities (and therefore the cohort effects of age) in what Olivier Fillieule (2005, 21) ironically defined a paradigm of the ‘acne crisis’. While youth, with little life structure, also makes intense commitment possible, as adults both family (marriage, children) and professional commitments (career developments, transfers, etc.) can lead to political commitment being abruptly interrupted. Beyond material availability, however, it was noted that the young had a greater tendency for enthusiasm and utopian ideas. In the various types of armed groups of various convictions too, a good percentage of the members were (and are) young, or even very young: 39 per cent of 1,086 activists in left-wing underground organizations active in the 1970s and observed during research in Italy were born after 1956 and another 36 per cent between 1950 and 1955 (della Porta 1990, 139). However, the cohort effects are balanced by generational effects, with the connected socialization of specific values. Research on activists in youth movements in 1968 showed, for example, how activism produced strong and long-lasting socialization with long-term effects: even decades later, former activists in student movements or civil rights movements were still very interested in politics, with left-wing ideas and a leaning too towards

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unconventional participation (Whalen and Flack 1984; McAdam 1988). The ‘mobile’ activist, who is always being mobilized for new causes provided they are coherent with his initial values, has been identified (Klandermans 2005). In looking at membership paths and leaving terrorism too, it can be observed that membership of underground organizations is not only a stage within a process of radicalization of political commitment in legal forms and groups. Many former terrorists return, both in prison and subsequently outside, to activities involving social and political commitment. Membership of voluntary associations (particularly those active in the fields of social exclusion and marginalization) and political groups is common among many former activists of underground organizations in Italy. In the words of one of the founders of the BR, who was arrested in 1974 and left in 1982, ‘I left prison in 1992, having served 18 years for kidnapping and forming an armed group, thanks to the dissociazione law. I work on the national board of Arci [left-wing cultural association], I run a social co-operative whose objective is to help marginalized people rejoin society. It is an activity that I enjoy a lot because it allows me to earn a living while maintaining my social commitment [. . .] my ideas are left-wing and I hope to keep them that way for a long time’ (Fasanella and Franceshini 2004, 10). Burn-out Psychological characteristics have also been studied to explain abandonment because of so-called ‘burn-out’, linked to the stress of a commitment which is too demanding in terms of time or emotional investment. Not surprisingly, this reason for abandoning an organization was noted in groups working in the field of Aids and especially among those who were motivated by personal experience with the illness (Fillieule and Broqua 2005, 206ff.). A kind of burn-out was also cited by supporters of underground organizations. The amount of energy to be dedicated to the organization on a daily basis was cited repeatedly, not least as an impediment to critical reflection on one’s own choice – the ‘impossibility not only for me but also I believe of the situation of being able to stop for a moment and say no’ (Life history no. 21, 43). Another Italian activist recalls ‘incredible tiredness; at that time I injured my leg, I was hurt, I was in bed for two months and I seemed to see things clearly [. . .] I really had this impression that I could stop and look in from the outside [. . .] this self-nurturing mechanism’ (Life history no. 29, 45). However, burn-out can also speed up the process of separation. In very similar words, two Italian activists recall almost a sense of relief over the arrest that interrupted an activity which had been too intense: We woke up at 5 o’clock [. . .] to do reconnaissance [obtaining information on a possible target] [. . .] then I couldn’t go home, I had to meet people, so I had to be in Rome all day; then I went home in the evening, we had to do documents, type, do a load of other things, then we went to

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bed at about midnight. At that time, I was also having a relationship with the person living with me, we would chat a bit, do other things, this and that, it was one o’clock, at five I had to be up again. I got between three and four hours’ sleep a night [. . .] when they knocked on my door that morning, my first thought was ‘I knew it’; the second was ‘thank goodness, more sleep. (Life history no. 1, 75–6) I dedicated all my free time to the organization: I worked eight hours a day, at the end of the day I got the car, I went to Torino, kept going until 3 o’clock in the morning [. . .] In fact, during the first few days in prison, I actually thought ‘ah, finally I can rest.9 (Life history no. 17, 31) Social relationships and departure processes Research on paths taken to abandon political participation has to take into account the structure of social relationships in which an individual acts. Research on the American peace movement (Downton and Wehr 1997) or on solidarity with the southern hemisphere in Switzerland (Passy 2005) has linked long-term commitment not only with socialization towards some values but also with the connection between the three main spheres of life: family, professional and political. ‘Persistent activists’ are those who managed to interweave into their life project commitment to a movement, emotional life and a professional career. Activist identities are also connected to emotional support. And vice versa, defection is more likely when the three spheres of politics, family and work become more distant from one another. On an individual level this increases the opportunity to find a circle of support which is sympathetic towards possible signs of abandonment. Underground organizations have always involved amicable networks. The foundations of the BR were built on a group of young people from Reggio Emilia, playmates in the Communist Party section; a PL activist underlines the ‘harmony’ of the Florence group: ‘we’ve known each other forever’; ‘the story of Prima Linea in Sesto San Giovanni is a story of friendship’ (Life history no. 3, 50). In the ‘basic’ structure of the bigger organizations, as in smaller groups, activists continued to live their daily lives together, without respecting ‘safety standards’. In the words of the activists interviewed, relationships with comrades are described as involving strong emotional positions: ‘absolute human relationships’, ‘solidarity even over the little things’, ‘relationships undone by work’ (quoted in della Porta 1990). Such emotional experiences are strengthened through frequent contact. Common experiences during holidays are often recalled in interviews: ‘a huge part of the conviviality’, ‘meeting people’, ‘spliffs’, ‘trips in the country’, ‘happy brotherhood’, ‘holidays that follow expropriations in supermarkets’. Relationships with comrades increase in intensity, little by little leading to

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reduced interaction with people outside the organization. In the words of one activist: ‘I am unable to cultivate relationships outside the organization. With comrades from the organization, these are also relationships for life; they are, above all, friendships. The first embryo of the BR was formed by friends, people who lived more or less in the same part of town’ (Life history no. 7, 9). These emotional bonds strengthen solidarity when the consequences of common militancy in underground organizations become more serious for these friends, since ‘at the end of the day either we’re all in or we’re all out, and when we stay half in and half out, I don’t abandon my friends [. . .] it meant continuing to decide to throw myself down the well because, if friends were falling in the well because of a belief in something we all believed in, if they have to stay down there and I can’t get them out, I prefer to be in there with them: this is the state of mind which led, even later on, in ’79, ’80, ’81 and ’82, people to [. . .] continue to be arrested for taking exactly the same sort of path’ (Life history no. 18, 58–9). Furthermore, comrades in prison were becoming a privileged reference point for solidarity, where ‘everyone identifies with them’, leaving previous personal acquaintances to one side. The desire to leave the underground world, seen as a sin and curbed by a ‘sense of responsibility’ towards the person arrested, was frequently expressed. Morucci would write (2004, 196) that ‘Perhaps we felt indebted to those in prison, not having managed with Moro in hand to get them out.’ And vice versa, for those in prison there was a ‘sense of responsibility’ towards those who, outside, continued to risk their lives. Thus, ‘one continues to fight precisely and above all for comrades in prison [. . .] they make deadly choices, personally, at that point, exactly on this thing here, in solidarity with those in prison. And instead this dazzling story continues and ends, not surprisingly, in October 1982 in Florence when we all meet again and, all together, we can therefore decide that an experiment is over. And therefore it is closed. We no longer have problems with blackmailing each other, of solidarity, which at a certain point, at first it’s solidarity but at a certain point it also becomes reciprocal blackmailing between those who are in and those who are out (Life history no. 26, 69). Solidarity towards a small group of comrades from the organization therefore influenced the process of separation from the armed struggle in prison. Many interviewees claim that ‘you don’t leave alone’, ‘they wait for the others’ so as not to ‘tear apart internal relations with the other detainees’, ‘wait for a process of collective maturity’, to ‘reduce the weight of recognizing mistakes’ (quoted in della Porta 1990). With regard to his initial position of refusing all self-criticism, one PL supporter declared: ‘I was very hard because substantially I thought that what was left of this element of cohesion and solidarity should hold firm [. . .] I felt, yes, that I had to save this collective movement at all costs, had to save these relationships at all costs [. . .] For me, they were relationships from ’72 and ’73, I mean, it was a life we had lived together, in all our choices’ (Life history no. 26, pp. 31–3 passim).

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In these conditions, underground organizations often manage to survive with ever greater demands on personal investment. Higher barriers to entry and greater sacrifices increase the level of expected recompense. When this recompense did not arrive, a psychological mechanism was activated to ‘relaunch’, increasing investment rather than going back and giving everything up. In other words, commitment is maintained because abandonment would carry a very high psychological price, given the price that had already been paid for participation in armed action. The life histories also present many significant testimonials on this subject: Then came a whole series of feelings of guilt for leaving this sort of activity and the price it represented on the one hand and on the other, and therefore also the uselessness of the things I’d done. (Life history no. 19, 63) The only possibility of redemption I have, from a moral point of view, both for the violence we carried out and for what was suffered [. . .] is the journey to the very bottom. (Life history no. 18, 73–4). Participation in the life of the organization and its portrayal was the only material guarantee of surviving in freedom; furthermore, it continued to be predominant, like the ideological conviction of having to continue on the road you’ve embarked upon to find, or better try to find, a reason behind my previous involvement in a man’s death. (Life history no. 14, 19) Only the sense of loyalty towards the ‘community of the armed struggle’ allowed an image of reality to be maintained where the price already paid could be hidden, murders could still be defined as ‘workers’ justice’, and probable imprisonment as a stage in the struggle for freedom. And this also made it possible to keep self-respect on the one hand and, on the other, the certainty of impunity for one’s own crimes. As Morucci wrote (2004, 193), his departure from the terrorist organization was delayed by the fact that ‘I couldn’t yet leave the BR without also leaving behind my revolutionary faith [. . .] And this is not an easy journey for a communist. Precisely because, going beyond the ideology, it has been a faith.’ In this regard, it is worth noting that, despite reaching a critical position on the armed struggle and a significant reflection on the past, many of the interviewees expressed an overall positive final judgement of their experience. This also allows self-respect to be maintained and avoids an identity crisis. Let us cite just a few examples though of a common position in most of the life histories collected: ‘I believe that it would be very bad if, having reached this point, one simply said “I’ve done a lot of stupid things, I’ve always been wide of the mark, look how stupid I’ve been, now that’s enough, turn the

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page, I don’t want to hear any more about it” ’ (Life history no. 28, 98). Also, ‘despite thousands of mistakes and contradictions, I disown absolutely nothing of those years; they were and are part and parcel of my life as a woman, I who have never succeeded in accepting things as they were but who have tried, through mistakes too, to contribute to changing them’ (Life history no. 24, 54). In this sense, abandonment paths are thwarted by different attitudes to failure. According to Pizzorno, in the event of failure in the pursuit of collective objectives, reactions vary from denial of defeat to recognition of weakness and simultaneously an exploitation of the sociality between members of the group. In other cases, ‘Some members of the group, who don’t believe or don’t accept weakness, continue to conceive life itself as dedicated to the same ideas as those of the original movement, and make it the demonstration of an individual morality. We call this the testimony case’ (Pizzorno 2007). In conclusion, mechanisms for abandoning underground organizations are only effective if they take into account these bonds that change depending on the level of individual commitment and the type of motivation (instrumental, emotional, ideological). The different stages of departure are influenced by emotional intensity, level and type of benefits, multiplicity of roles and potential conflicts (Ebaugh 1988). They can favour departure when they allow some aspects of an initial point of view to be kept and also therefore the potential approval of an individual’s circle.

Concluding observations For underground organizations, as for other organizations, political or not, the exit process is complex, containing as it does a change in both the life project itself and perceptions of the surrounding reality. By focusing on the process of abandoning commitment to left-wing underground organizations active in Italy during the 1970s and halfway through the following decade, I have suggested an interpretive model that takes into account the complex interaction of processes at macro-environmental, meso-organizational and micro-individual levels. In so doing, I have referred to existing sociological literature on connected themes, from abandonment of political commitment to changes in professional careers. As regards environmental conditions, explanations for departure from terrorism dwell prevailingly on the efficiency of repressive policies. However, many studies on radicalization processes have indicated that ‘hard’ repression can produce perverse effects by stiffening individuals as regards their own choices and increasing solidarity outside. In the Italian case, repressive so-called emergency policies are interwoven with the apparently more effective policies of facilitating departure through the reduction of prison sentences and the creation of homogeneous areas in prisons. While repressive policies operate with a view to increasing the price of staying committed, rewarding the open abandonment of the armed struggle reduces the price

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(especially emotional and cognitive) of leaving, allowing collective paths towards changes in solidarity and identification. Again from the environmental point of view, I have also observed the effects stemming from a change in forms of collective action, with a growing stigmatization of the most violent forms. This interpretation underlines the political dimension of violence and therefore the persistent (if reduced) ability of activists to assess the effects (not just military) of their actions. Environmental conditions interact with organizational evolution. Choosing to go underground implies progressive isolation and the militarization of armed organizations, with increasingly bloody action and elitist, closed ideologies. At the same time, their activists tend to dismiss perceptions of defeat, reducing information sources and strengthening emotional investment in the armed group. However, such dismissal does not appear to be complete. In particular, growing fractionalization and sectarianism of underground groups creates a crisis in emotional relationships and reciprocal solidarity. Some events (from the killing of presumed ‘informers’ to the most brutal terrorist attacks) act so often as precipitating them along paths towards change that have already been begun. Individual perceptions and motivations therefore filter through the effects of the environmental and organizational changes on activist careers. Having often entered underground organizations very young, after being socialized into politics in phases of profound radicalization of social conflict, Italian militants often reported burn-out processes, especially during periods on the run. Above all, however, exit paths from underground organizations appear to be influenced by the social relationships of individuals. Although departure is easier if there is a wide circle of support, and activism in underground groups normally restricts these circles, departure is made easier when collective paths are favoured. In these cases, changing from terrorism to refusing violence can be made easier, instead of being obstructed, by group solidarity.

Bibliography Catanzaro, Raimondo and Luigi Manconi (eds.) (1995) Storie di lotta armata, Bologna: Il Mulino. Coleman, James S. (1986) ‘Social Theory, Social Research and a Theory of Action’, American Journal of Sociology, 91: 1309–35. Curcio, Anna (2006) La paura dei movimenti, Cosenza: Rubettino. della Porta, Donatella (1990) Il terrorismo di sinistra, Bologna: Il Mulino. della Porta, Donatella (1992) ‘Life Histories Analysis of Social Movement Activists’, in Mario Diani and Ron Eyerman (eds) Studying Social Movements, London: Sage, pp. 168–93. della Porta, Donatella (1993) ‘State Responses to Terrorism: The Italian Case’, in R. Crelinston and A. Schmidt (eds) Western Responses to Terrorism, London: Frank Cass, pp. 151–70. della Porta, Donatella (1995) Social Movements, Political Violence and the State, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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della Porta, Donatella (1996) Movimenti collettivi e sistema politico in Italia, Rome– Bari: Laterza. della Porta, Donatella (2005) ‘Multiple Belongings, Tolerant Identities, and the Construction of “Another Politics”: Between the European Social Forum and the Local Social Fora’, in Donatella della Porta and Sidney Tarrow (eds) Transnational Protest and Global Activism, Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, pp. 175–202. della Porta, Donatella and S. Tarrow (1986) ‘Unwanted Children. Political Violence and the Cycle of Protest in Italy. 1966–1973’, European Journal of Political Research 14: 607–32. Downton, James V. and Paul Wehr (1997) Persistent Activist: How Peace Commitment Develops and Survives, Boulder, Co.: Westview Press. Ebaugh, H.R. (1988) Becoming an Ex. The Process of Role Exit, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Fasanella, Giovanni and Alberto Franceschini (2004) Che cosa sono le BR, Milano: Bur. Fillieule, Olivier (2005) ‘Temps biographique, temps sociale et variabilité des rétributions’, in Olivier Fillieule (ed.) Le désengagement militant, Paris: Belin, pp. 17–48. Fillieule, Olivier and Christophe Broqua (2005) ‘La défection dans deux associations de lutte contre le sida: Act up et Aides’, in Olivier Fillieule (ed.) Le désengagement militant, Paris: Belin, pp. 189–228. Gallinari, Prospero (2006) Un contadino nella metropolis. Ricordi di un militante delle Brigate Rosse, Milan: Bompiani. Gottraux, Philippe (2005) ‘Autodissolution d’un collectif politique. Autour de Socialisme ou Barbarie’, in Olivier Fillieule (ed.), Le désengagement militant, Paris: Belin, pp. 75–94. Hirschman, Albert O. (1982) Shifting Involvements: Private Interests and Public Action. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Ion, J. (1997) La fin des militants?, Paris: Editions de l’Atelier. Kanter, R.M. (1972) Commitment and Community: Communes and Utopias in Sociological Perspective, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Klandermans, Bert (2005) Une psychologie sociale de l’exit, in Olivier Fillieule (ed.) Le désengagement militant, Paris: Belin, pp. 95–110. Labbé. D. and M. Croisat (1992) La fin de syndicats?, Paris : L’Harmattan. Leclerc, Catherine (2005) ‘Raisons de sortir’. Les militants du Partie communiste français’, in Olivier Fillieule (ed.) Le désengagement militant, Paris: Belin, pp. 131–54. McAdam, Doug (1988) Freedom Summer, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Morucci, Valerio (2004) La peggio gioventù. Una vita nella lotta armata, Milan: Bompiani. Passy, Florence (2005) ‘Interactions sociales et imbrications des sphères de vie’, in Olivier Fillieule (ed.), Le désengagement militant, Paris: Belin, pp. 111–30. Pizzorno, Alessandro (2007) Il velo della diversità, Milan: Feltrinelli. Pudal, Bernard (2005) ‘Gérard Belloin, de l’engagement communiste à l’ “autoanalyse” ’, in Olivier Fillieule (ed.) Le désengagement militant, Paris: Belin, pp. 155–69. Rognoni, Virgilio (1989) Intervista sul terrorismo, Bari: Laterza. Sommier, Isabelle (2005) ‘Une expérience “incommunicable”? Les ex-militants d’extreme-gauche français et italiens’, in Olivier Fillieule (ed.) Le désengagement militant, Paris: Belin, pp. 171–88.

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Tarrow, Sidney (1989) Democracy and Disorder. Protest and Politics in Italy, 1965– 1975. Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press. Tilly, Charles (2003) The Politics of Collective Violence, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Whalen, J. and R. Flack (1984) ‘Echoes of Rebellion: the Liberated Generation Grows up’, Journal of Political and Military Sociology, 12: 61–78.

6

Leaving terrorism behind in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country Reassessing anti-terrorist policies and the ‘peace processes’ Rogelio Alonso

Introduction Spain and the United Kingdom are probably two of the liberal democracies throughout the world that have most suffered from terrorism in the last decades. From the late sixties both countries were targeted by intense campaigns of violence perpetrated by ETA and the IRA,1 two of the most enduring terrorist organizations in Western Europe. These two terrorist organizations have been part of what has been referred to as the third wave of modern terrorism.2 They both espoused an ethnonationalist ideology, on the basis of which they justified intense campaigns of killings in pursuit of their territorial claims against European liberal democracies like Spain and the UK.3 When both groups became active around that period the areas in which they emerged were clearly characterized by an important democratic deficit. General Franco’s dictatorship in Spain represented for Basque nationalists a serious grievance which in the view of some of them demanded a violent response which led to the formation of a terrorist organization like ETA. In Northern Ireland the Unionist-controlled government that had excluded the nationalist minority in the region since the creation of the state in 1922 had long ignored the need for reforms that would address the just grievances of a significant section of the population in the region. Although reforms were implemented in the late 1960s and most of the demands of the Civil Rights Movement had by then been satisfied, the outbreak of intercommunal violence in that period facilitated the emergence of the IRA.4 Once violence erupted in both regions the Spanish and British states did engage in processes of democratization that evolved in parallel with terrorism. To some extent, the decrease in both terrorist campaigns can be seen as a result of these processes of democratization and the progressive lack of legitimization that ensued among social sectors which may have supported terrorism had the states involved not reformed their institutions. Nonetheless, violence continued for many decades and nowadays, almost fifty years after their formation, neither ETA nor the IRA has achieved its objectives. However, the latter has put an end to its campaign of violence while the former

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still continues to be involved in terrorism. Against such a background this chapter will analyse the reasons behind these opposing decisions. Therefore, the chapter will examine how certain strategic, organizational and psychological factors have motivated the IRA to abandon terrorism while ETA has maintained its commitment to its terrorist campaign. Collective rather than individual disengagement will be the main focus of the following pages. Special attention will be paid to what have been termed ‘peace processes’ in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country. A comparison is made of different models of conflict resolution and the political processes in which attempts were made to end terrorism in these different scenarios. This comparative perspective makes it possible to establish the factors that differentiate the terrorist and anti-terrorist experience in both regions around the so-called ‘peace processes’. This assessment will contrast the evolution of both terrorist groups, explaining why ETA has remained committed to its fundamentalist tenets despite the political transformation of Spain over the years. As will be elaborated, these include the refusal to stop terrorism even if the group’s goals were eventually conceded. Such a categorical premise represents a key factor when analysing the causes behind the continuation of ETA’s violence, revealing the ambition for power behind the coercion exerted by the terrorist group. As this chapter will demonstrate, ETA’s fanatical and unyielding rationale emerges as a determinant feature in order to explain why it has not followed the same path as other terrorist groups which appeared in the European context at the same time but have since abandoned terrorism. As opposed to ETA, the IRA was prepared to renounce violence, accepting a political settlement that fell short of meeting the traditional objectives of the terrorist group. This chapter will also argue that the political pragmatism and leniency towards separatist movements that is deemed as necessary by some observers in order to enable a transition from terrorism to peaceful politics can be more counterproductive than beneficial to the strengthening of democracy. Such an approach can also discourage the collective disengagement from violence, as ETA’s experience highlights. To this extent special attention will be paid to the role of victims of terrorism since the ‘peace processes’ in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country were to a great extent based on some type of legitimization of those who threatened democracy. Therefore, the political and social costs of some of the initiatives around these ‘peace processes’, put in place in an attempt to encourage pathways out of terrorism, will also be assessed.

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The ‘peace process’ in the Basque Country and the Northern Ireland mirror The role of victims in the Northern Ireland ‘peace process’ Aiden Gallagher died on 15 August 1998 after a car bomb exploded in the Northern Irish town of Omagh. This attack was claimed by the terrorist group known as Real IRA, a splinter from the Provisional IRA, an organization led since the early seventies by Gerry Adams, President of Sinn Fein. Michael Gallagher, father of the 21-year-old who was killed along with 28 others that summer day of 1998, was interviewed by a Spanish daily on 18 November 2005. Gallagher, who in 1984 had also seen his brother killed in another terrorist attack by the Provisional IRA, reflected on the situation of victims of terrorism. Asked by the journalist if the victims might be relegated to a second plane ‘on the road to peace’, Michael Gallagher answered as follows: That risk clearly exists, and for that reason I would like to advise Euskadi [the Basque Country] to take note of the peace process in Northern Ireland and to learn the positive and the negative lessons before the central government and the people of the Basque Country sit down. In the case of Northern Ireland, the victims were not consulted. This was a serious mistake, because if we want to achieve a firm peace it is essential for victims to have a voice in the process. If the victims are not represented there can be no lasting peace; an active role for them is essential’.5 A rigorous analysis of the political events that have taken place in Northern Ireland in recent years shows clearly that victims of terrorism were quite often ignored in that region. Brice Dickson, head of the Northern Ireland Human Rights Commission, had already stated in 2003 that too little attention had been given to the rights of victims of violence in the region.6 Contrary to those observers and academics who praise the Northern Ireland ‘peace process’ without acknowledging the disadvantages of the model applied, victims of terrorism have emphasized how counterproductive it has been to underestimate their role. To this extent, in 2006 Bertha McDougall, the Northern Ireland Victims’ Commissioner, argued that ‘unless we address the needs of victims now as a whole society, we cannot move on’. She went on demanding ‘justice’, ‘recognition for their suffering and pain’, as well as ‘the truth of what happened’ over decades of intense terrorism.7 Her predecessor, Sir Kenneth Bloomfield, had already referred to the importance of meeting the victims’ demands for justice. In 1998 he had warned about how the request for recognition could become a distraction from issues that some victims regarded as more relevant, for example ‘the establishment of the truth and the bringing to justice and the condign punishment of those responsible for various crimes and

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atrocities’. However, the ‘peace process’ was built upon the denial of those requests, as the early release of convicted prisoners and other political initiatives demonstrated. In fact the debate about how to deal with Northern Ireland’s violent past has continued ten years after the signing of the Belfast Agreement in 1998. In June 2007 a Consultative Group on the Past was set up to find the best way to deal with the legacy of the past. Lord Eames and Denis Bradley, cochairs of this group, hoped that their work would allow Northern Ireland to ‘move towards a society that has not forgotten the past but which learns from the past in the way that helps us all to shape a better future’.9 In a society where the definition of who is a victim remains a controversial issue, the need for remembrance is not as contested as the means by which remembering should happen. Several surveys confirm that a majority of society agrees with the proposition that all victims of the so-called ‘Troubles’ should be remembered in some way.10 However, it remains a more challenging issue to address the injustices that some members of society argue have been endorsed as a requirement for the ‘success’ of the ‘peace process’, among them the acceptance of exceptional legal measures that have guaranteed impunity for certain criminal acts. This much could be inferred from the statement of Mark Durkan, leader of the SDLP (Social Democratic and Labour Party), the party which had represented the views of the majority of the nationalist community in Northern Ireland during decades of terrorism. The politician who succeeded John Hume, who until 2001 had led the nationalist party which had constantly condemned terrorism, pointed out that victims of violence had ‘the right to truth’, adding that ‘all those who made them victims should be held to account’.11 Durkan stressed that ‘victims and survivors were promised a lot in the Good Friday Agreement but government, parties and paramilitaries had not delivered’. Therefore, he suggested that every victim should be given ‘the right to see the police files relating to the killing of a loved one, the right to request an independent reinvestigation of a murder and the right to decide whether there should be a prosecution or to waive it for truth’. The power to recommend prosecutions and to investigate all unresolved murders committed in Northern Ireland was also put forward in 2008 by Nuala O’Loan, former police ombudsman.12 Nonetheless, this was not the policy pursued, as Northern Ireland’s Chief Constable, Hugh Orde, confirmed when he admitted to being incapable of coping with the growing demand to reopen sensitive murder cases. Amidst growing demands for the reinvestigation of unsolved murders, Orde declared that he was not ‘funded to reinvestigate history’, but ‘to police the present’, thus advocating ‘some form of closure that may not include a judicial process’.13 Under those circumstances the Historical Enquiries Team (HET) set up by the Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI) in 2005 was unable to press any charges after revisiting tens of killings committed in the past. This was the case because prosecutions were ‘not the principle measure of HET’s work’, a body which

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had devoted a major proportion of its resources to answering the specific and often very personal questions asked by relatives of the deceased.14 The Basque ‘peace process’: searching for a model in Northern Ireland The shortcomings that have been outlined already, together with others that will be elaborated on, have not prevented many politicians from praising the Northern Ireland ‘peace process’ as a model in conflict resolution.15 Against this background certain players in Spain were also keen on replicating vis-àvis ETA some of the initiatives that had been implemented in Northern Ireland. The Spanish Prime Minister, José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero, acknowledged that type of inspiration in the aftermath of ETA’s announcement of a ‘ceasefire’ in March 2006.16 It was in the period immediately prior to and after this announcement that politicians and opinion-formers in Spain resorted to the Northern Ireland model as a means of justifying political negotiations with ETA, even though the Basque terrorist group had not demonstrated any willingness to put an end to violence. Under those circumstances the ‘peace process’ in Northern Ireland was taken as a reference point by numerous politicians and journalists in Spain, who sought its application to the Basque context. Many of them assumed as a premise a happy ending of the Northern Irish process, believing that it had guaranteed the end of IRA terrorism and the organization’s disarmament. For this reason, they suggested that the process initiated with ETA’s ceasefire would also demand a pragmatic approach similar to that of the British and Irish leaders. They subsequently assumed that the process that was supposed to lead up to the end of ETA would have to be lengthy and difficult.17 Nonetheless, they insisted that under no circumstances would democracy pay any political price in exchange. Nevertheless, the interpretation that many of these observers made of the Northern Irish peace process ignored the fact that both the British and Irish governments finally allowed political advantages to be gained from terrorism, as will be analysed below. The impunity that has characterized the process in Northern Ireland confirms this point. Others made use of that particular reality precisely to anticipate and justify the Spanish government’s making concessions, with a view to an assumed necessary practicality for solving the Basque conflict. Thus, the insistence on the Northern Irish model served as an excuse for legitimizing what in the end became a counterproductive antiterrorist policy regarding ETA, a terrorist organization that entered into a tactical ‘ceasefire’ with no intention of giving up violence. This was evidenced by ETA’s continuous criminal activities during the so-called ‘truce’, which was finally ended on 30 December 2006, when a bomb planted by the terrorist group at Madrid’s international airport killed two people. Contrary to what the Spanish government argued in order to support its negotiations with ETA, the governmental policy applied did not encourage the collective disengagement of the terrorist group. In fact negotiations with

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the terrorist organization put an end to an effective counter-terrorist strategy that had been firmly applied by the main Spanish political parties since 2000. Such a departure provided the terrorist organization with important motivational factors for the continuation of violence, since the comprehensive antiterrorist pact reached by the main political parties in that year was effectively abandoned by the Spanish government when Rodríguez Zapatero, the Prime Minister elected in 2004, authorized opening up negotiations with ETA. At the end of 2000 the Spanish Popular Party (Partido Popular), the party then in government, and the main opposition party, the Socialist Party (Partido Socialista Obrero Español), signed the Pact for Freedom and against Terrorism (Pacto por las Libertades y contra el Terrorismo). Under this Pact both parties agreed to ‘work towards the disappearance of any attempt at direct or indirect political legitimization of violence’, thus ensuring that ‘under no circumstances should terrorist violence result in any political advantage or gain whatsoever’. The Pact also stated that ‘the dialogue typical of a democratic society must take place among the legitimate representatives of the citizens in the context of and in accordance with the Constitution and the laws of the State and, of course, without the pressure of violence.’18 Contrary to the firm stance set forth in this important agreement, some political sectors and opinion leaders made specific use of the Northern Irish reality, and that of other violent contexts, to anticipate and justify that the Spanish government would have to grant concessions for supposedly pragmatic reasons to resolve the Basque conflict. Therefore, the insistence on accommodating external references such as Northern Ireland led some to fear that these might become a pretext to legitimize what could turn out to be a counterproductive policy with respect to ETA if parallels were drawn unduly. Events before and after the ceasefire decreed by ETA in March 2006 confirmed this trend, as detailed below. Violence perpetrated by the terrorist group had peaked in 1980 and then gradually decreased to the point that from May 2003 to December 2006 the terrorist group registered no killings, due to successful work by government security forces. The absence of killings during that period was used by some politicians to justify the Spanish government’s engagement in negotiations with ETA. By wrongly equating the absence of killings with an alleged willingness by ETA to give up violence, public opinion was misled as to the real intentions of the terrorist group: ETA had indeed been planning killings but they were foiled by their own failure and successful police work.19 This criminal intent revealed ETA’s real objectives while engaging in negotiations with the Spanish government elected in March 2004, despite the latter’s insistence that ETA was committed to halting its deadly campaign. Under those circumstances, the ‘peace process’ in Northern Ireland was used to justify the engagement in negotiations with the aim of guaranteeing an end to violence, the Northern Irish example also being manipulated to justify such a dialogue even in the absence of a complete cessation by ETA. Events would soon confirm the government’s error, and on 30 December

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2006 the bomb planted by ETA at Madrid’s international airport went off, killing two people. As security sources had warned during the negotiations, ETA had no intention of disbanding or renouncing violence, a fact that was corroborated by internal documentation of the terrorist group as well as by other public statements and the constant criminal activity maintained by ETA during the period.20 As had previously happened when other Spanish governments had entered into dialogue with ETA, negotiations mainly constituted for the terrorist group a tactical device within a strategy whose principal aims have remained unaltered since its origins. Therefore, the socalled ‘permanent ceasefire’ declared by ETA in March 2006 proved to be a mere tactical truce and far from the conclusion of the campaign expected by some observers and politicians.

Anti-terrorist coactive measures as effective means of disengagement from terrorism Defeating terrorism as a precondition for renouncing violence Previous experiences of negotiations with ETA throughout the years had confirmed how ineffective this means was in order to achieve the renunciation of terrorism. Negotiations between ETA and democratic players had not guaranteed the disbandment of the terrorist group, but had instead provided breathing space for the organization at times of considerable state pressure. As a result of this protracted anti-terrorist experience, a new approach was agreed and enshrined in the Pact for Freedom and Against Terrorism signed in 2000. Counter-terrorism policy implemented in Spain after the signing of the Pact achieved notable success.21 The political consensus reached in this agreement, in which the government and the opposition agreed to ‘defeat the terrorist strategy with all the means the rule of law places at its disposal’, was augmented by significant success in other spheres of the fight against terrorism. On the one hand, major organizational structures of ETA were dismantled and a large number of ETA members were arrested in both France and Spain as a result of improved and intensified cooperation between the two countries. Legal and judicial measures were also used against terrorists, with harsher sentences being handed down for acts of urban terrorism known as kale borroka, and the outlawing of organizations that were lending support to ETA. This strategy was based on considering the organization and its sympathizers as an organic whole designed as a complex ‘network of interwoven structures, social and political entities, businesses and corporations’ in service to ETA, as stated in the August 2002 court order dissolving Batasuna, ETA’s political wing. These initiatives received massive public support from a civil society showing majority opposition to terrorist violence and a growing capacity for mobilization against the intimidation exerted by the terrorists,22 all of which considerably weakened ETA.

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All this was augmented by political and legislative initiatives that placed victims of terrorism at the centre of governmental policy. After years of being ignored, this transmitted a powerful message of solidarity with those affected by terrorist violence and de-legitimized the perpetrators and their supporters.23 Along these lines, it was especially relevant that the PP and the PSOE set forth in the Pact for Freedom and against Terrorism that ‘the victims of terrorism are our principal concern’, adding: ‘We must strive to preserve their memory, to establish a system of permanent, daily attention. Their cooperation with the Spanish society in the fight against terrorism continues to be necessary since there is no one better than the victims to stand up for the values of social harmony and mutual respect that those who have inflicted so much suffering are seeking to destroy.’ The effective combination of political, law enforcement, social and judicial pressure backed the terrorist organization into a critical corner, even to the point of ‘awakening the spectre of the destruction of the separatist left’,24 as the terrorist group put it. ETA’s weakening led the leadership of the terrorist organization to envisage defeat,25 a view that was shared by six leading prisoners of the terrorist group who acknowledged the failure of ETA in a letter written in the summer of 2004. These activists called upon the terrorist group to halt its campaign of violence, arguing that its ‘political-military strategy has been defeated by enemy repression.’26 It can be considered to be of major significance that prominent members of ETA like Francisco Múgica Garmendia, alias Pakito, along with five other prisoners, actually acknowledged that ‘never in the history of this organization have we been in such a bad way’. Their concern led them to admit that ‘the inability to wage armed struggle and the impossibility of amassing forces to make negotiation with the central power an ultimate possibility forces us to rethink the vanguard strategy we have been following up to now.’27 It was in the context of such difficulties for ETA that the Socialist government formed after the March 2004 general elections decided to make a significant change in counter-terrorist policy. In opposition to what had been evidenced by the above-mentioned ETA prisoners, who were also supported by other inmates in French jails,28 negotiations with the terrorist organization were offered. The breaking of the counter-terrorist consensus was made official in the Resolution on the Fight against Terrorism approved by the Spanish Parliament in May 2005, but without the support of the main opposition party. The Resolution opened the prospect of negotiating with ETA, albeit under certain conditions which, however, ultimately were not fulfilled.29 Although the Spanish Congress only authorized government representatives to enter into dialogue with ‘those who have decided to put and end to violence’ once such a ‘clear willingness’ is ‘unequivocally’ demonstrated, negotiations with ETA were initiated and maintained in the absence of those preconditions. In contravention of the anti-terrorist pact signed by the two main political parties, representatives of the Socialist Party had been holding contacts with

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the terrorist group at least since 2002. These representatives negotiated a truce with ETA in exchange for political concessions, conveying the message that the threat of violence could pay off. The relevance of the issues negotiated and the preliminary agreement reached between ETA and representatives of the Spanish government demonstrated how the terrorist group had managed to bring the State closer to its demands.30 The breakdown of the truce in December 2006 confirmed that ETA’s demands were not completely met by the State, although such a development cannot obscure the fact that concessions were indeed made.31 The policy towards ETA during this period was dominated by a number of tolerant attitudes towards the criminal group. As part of this leniency towards the terrorist movement the Spanish government allowed one of ETA’s political fronts, a party called ANV (Acción Nacionalista Vasca), to take part in the local elections held in May 2007.32 Such governmental indulgence provided ETA with a relevant success since the terrorist group could argue that it had circumvented the outlawing of its political party and also obtained once again very significant economic and political resources. Therefore the government’s decision to negotiate with ETA was going to weaken those within the terrorist organization who were arguing in favour of the need to abandon violence given the high cost of such a tactic. At a time when dissenting voices within ETA had been questioning the usefulness of continuing with terrorism, the Spanish government encouraged those opposed to the cessation of violence by offering them negotiations, thus proving the group’s coercion effective. Such a course of action was going to hamper the progression from individual to collective disengagement that could have derived from the tactical and strategic questioning of the effectiveness of violence already evident within the group. Representations and misrepresentations of the Irish model Instead Spain’s counter-terrorist policy during this period was articulated around a ‘peace process’, a device that as conceived also involved marginalizing the victims of terrorism, along the lines of what was seen in the Northern Ireland ‘peace process’. Therefore, the underlying dynamic of the ‘peace process’ in Spain was more a matter of granting concessions in the face of terrorist coercion than of re-establishing rights that had been trampled. The Spanish government indulged in the model that Peter Hain, British Secretary of State, had endorsed when arguing that when dealing with conflict resolution ‘preconditions can strangle the process at birth’.33 However, David Trimble, Nobel Peace Prize winner and former Unionist leader, advised otherwise, recommending as follows: ‘If there is one lesson to learn from the Northern Ireland experience, it is that preconditions are crucial in ending violence and producing a settlement. Being overgenerous to extremist groups is like giving sweets to a spoilt child in the hope that it will improve its behaviour – it usually results in worse actions. Our experience

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suggests that while some flexibility is desirable, there have to be clear principles and boundaries. A failure to recognise this risks drawing the wrong conclusions from the recent history of Northern Ireland and fundamentally misunderstanding the peace process’.34 The misrepresentation of the Irish model had already been evident when Basque nationalism negotiated another truce with ETA during the mid to late 1990s. ETA’s 1998 ceasefire was built upon a deliberate distortion of the Northern Ireland ‘peace process’ by Basque nationalist parties and the terrorist organization.35 At that time the radicalization of constitutional nationalism in the Basque region, as opposed to the constitutionalization of radical nationalism that was a key factor in the achievement of the consensus enshrined in the 1998 Belfast Agreement, contributed to the continuation of terrorism. Contrary to the spirit of this Agreement, Basque nationalists moved away from an existing consensus with non-nationalist parties around the principle of full development of the Basque autonomy, strengthening ETA’s will to carry on with their campaign. Basque nationalists agreed with ETA to exclude non-nationalist parties from the government of the region in the belief that such a concession would encourage the terrorist organization to give up violence. However, ETA interpreted such a political success as a demonstration of the effectiveness of the group’s coercion. It is very significant that both ETA and the IRA were in a position of weakness when their representatives engaged in talks with constitutional nationalists at different moments in time. Contrary to the response by Irish nationalism to the IRA’s isolation, Basque nationalism decided to help ETA to supersede its marginalization with a pan-nationalist front aimed at replacing the consociationalism that Basque society requires to reflect its plural outlook with a political cleavage based on opposing national allegiances. Basque nationalism’s interpretation of the Irish process wrongly assumed that the formation of a pan-nationalist front had offered the republican movement, made up of the IRA and Sinn Fein, an alternative through which they could achieve their objectives and compensate for the weakness evidenced in their electoral and social support. Furthermore Basque nationalists argued that the IRA’s cessation of violence was a direct consequence of the British and Irish government’s recognition of the right to self-determination. Following this mistaken interpretation, democratic nationalist parties in the Basque Country declared as their objective to overcome the Statute of Autonomy from which the authority of the Basque Government, administered by nationalists since its inception, emanates. Therefore, the strategy used by democratic Basque nationalists to integrate radical Basque nationalism into the democratic arena and which, as approved at this party’s General Assembly, should focus on ‘promoting awareness of territorial integrity’,36 contradicted the principles on which the Northern Irish peace process had been built.

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The Northern Irish peace process, based on the conviction that a system of shared autonomous government offered the best framework for resolving the conflict, attempted to move towards a scenario which was not very different to that which the Basque Statute of Autonomy put into operation in the late 1970s. That was the reason why the consolidation of the autonomous framework, as opposed to self-determination, was the main objective of the main Northern Irish players. It was within that framework that they needed to create a space for coexistence in which the national question would hopefully cease to dominate political life. Contrary to this tendency, Basque nationalism ignored the fact that the redefinition of Irish traditional nationalism experienced by the main nationalist parties in Ireland had been a key factor in the IRA’s decision to abandon its terrorist campaign. Prior to the IRA’s 1994 ceasefire, and contrary to what the Irish terrorist group would have desired, constitutional nationalism in the north and the south of Ireland rejected a pan-nationalist front which would have included Sinn Fein as an exchange for the IRA’s cessation. Had republicans been successful in their attempts, a ‘peace process’ with the Unionist community would have been impossible to develop. This factor, together with the defeat of the IRA, was the basis of the ‘peace process’ in Northern Ireland. The ‘peace process’ in Northern Ireland finally came about when republicans looked for a way out of an isolation reflected in their decreased political and social support, as acknowledged in a 1994 IRA internal document in which the leadership accepted their lack of ‘strength to achieve the end goal’ and the need for a ceasefire.37 Therefore, ‘what brought about Adams’ search for a way out was not that people where prepared to welcome Sinn Fein into the larger nationalist family and give them an alternative to violence. [. . .] The real engine of change was the unremitting efforts of the securocrats in two states to understand the IRA, to frustrate its campaign and to guide it to a cessation.’38 The term securocrats started to be widely used by republicans during the peace process as a means of describing those in favour of implementing tough security measures against the IRA. Many academics have underestimated how relevant the coactive anti-terrorist policies applied by the British and Irish states were in bringing the IRA into a process of disengagement. Those measures, complemented with the relegation of Sinn Fein to the sidelines of the political arena, can be seen as very beneficial since they forced the IRA to abandon violence in order to end the party’s exclusion.39 However, the government’s approach was slightly altered in the aftermath of the IRA’s ceasefire when certain policies around the ‘peace process’ were introduced, providing an example that some Spanish politicians were keen to emulate in relation to ETA.

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Victims and victimizers in the ‘peace process’ Rehabilitating the terrorists Terrorist organizations assiduously resort to language to construct a rationale for their violence, making use of the mass media and political discourse. To this end, terms such as ‘peace’ and ‘dialogue’ are used profusely, and intentionally end up signifying the opposite of their natural meaning since they become instruments of propaganda manipulated by terrorist organizations and leaders seeking the legitimacy that they generally lack. The terrorist phenomena in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country offer abundant examples of such instrumentalization, demonstrating the importance of communication in counter-terrorist policy. In this regard, for many observers Gerry Adams’ transformation from international pariah to celebrity was an essential requirement of Sinn Fein’s process of constitutionalization. Thus they regarded it as necessary to legitimize the Provisional IRA’s interpretation of history and its terrorist campaign. Former Irish Prime Minister Garret FitzGerald summarized the problem behind this attitude when in relation to Sinn Fein and the IRA he pointed out: ‘Their propaganda system is very focused. “We are the peace party.” If you murder enough people and then stop, then you become the peace party’.40 Consequently the rehabilitation of Gerry Adams was endorsed by different media in Ireland and the UK, as exemplified by the interview published in issue 39 of VIP magazine in September 2002. Adams appeared on the front page of the magazine, taking a privileged position when compared with other celebrities who also featured in the cover. In the inside interview the IRA was not mentioned either by interviewee or by an interviewer who preferred to ask what made Adams laugh and cry. Clearly, ‘with his bloody past brilliantly glossed over’, the interview had political intentions by contributing to the reconstruction of Adams’ image.41 Treating the leader of the terrorist group with kid gloves was not only restricted to the media, but became part of the policy behind the ‘peace process’. Academic Fred Halliday summed up the prejudicial consequences of such an approach in the following manner: Adams himself has presented himself as a man of peace, even, God help us, as a statesman, offering advice to the Basques about the prospects for peace in Spain and producing mawkish autobiographies that make him out to be some sort of neo-Celtic gentleman. His policy of weakening and overtaking the more moderate, anti-violence, SDLP, has been greatly helped by the passage of time: a younger generation in north and south forgets the killings, disappearances and tortures and admires him for getting the kind of TV coverage that the more staid, and responsible, SDLP leaders John Hume and Seamus Mallon never got. Yet the IRA has not changed, and the pretence of a difference between IRA and Sinn

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Leaving Terrorism Behind Féin, whereby Adams issues ‘appeals’ to the IRA is no more than that between a ventrioloquist and his dummy.42

The type of propaganda articulated in Northern Ireland in order to rehabilitate the public image of those involved in violence also influenced the terminology used in Spain in relation to the victims of terrorism once a ‘peace process’ was put in place. The difficulties of such an approach were even more evident in the Spanish context, where terrorism has mainly emanated from one source: ETA.43 Although the IRA has been responsible for the highest percentage of the killings committed in Northern Ireland, terrorism has also been perpetrated by other groups on the unionist side. In addition, the allegations of collusion between security agencies and unionist terrorist groups continue to mire the record of the British state’s anti-terrorist policy during the last decades.44 This factor constitutes a key differential feature that has to be stressed when comparing the policies around the ‘peace processes’ in Spain and Northern Ireland. Furthermore, the political and social context derived from the process of democratization put in motion in Spain after the demise of the dictatorship created a unique set of circumstances that should have discouraged any negotiation with ETA, given the legitimization that it was bound to offer the terrorist group. It has to be stressed that the 1979 Statute of Autonomy for the Basque Country provided for a devolved administration that has been administered by nationalists since its inception. The process of administrative decentralization undergone by Spain in the last decades has been described as ‘unparalleled in the rest of Western Europe’ and ‘tantamount to a revolution’.45 Therefore, the consolidation of democracy guaranteed that the Spanish state exercised a legal monopoly of violence in accordance with the law and within the limits of the Constitution. With the exception of a brief period, ETA has been the sole and principle perpetrator of violence. ETA’s campaign of violence and systematic violation of human rights has never elicited a violent response from the Spanish people, who have always relied on the State for their protection. To this extent, normal demands for justice from society and victims of terrorism should have acted as an incentive to rule out an unfair procedure such as dialogue outside the democratic framework with those who are violently challenging it. Nonetheless, the Spanish government, following the Northern Ireland example, opted for a ‘peace process’ based on a set of initiatives that were going to be strongly opposed by a large number of victims. The reasons behind this opposition lay in the reluctance of wide sections of Spanish society towards a strategy that underestimated the victimization inflicted by the terrorist organization over the years. Despite their continued efforts, neither the IRA nor ETA have been able to achieve support for their terrorist campaigns from a majority of the Basque or Northern Irish people. This is one of the reasons for the decline that led them to declare their ‘ceasefires’, but not to announce their disappearance, so

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as to continue their coercion in the political sphere. In the periods following the truces declared by ETA and the IRA, both groups persisted in seeking the legitimization that some observers and politicians were willing to partially grant them in exchange for a mere formal declaration of the cessation of certain violent actions. Both the leaderships of ETA and the IRA, in seriously weakened positions, took advantage of this willingness on the part of certain political and social sectors. They did it by proposing what they called a ‘peace process’ in which they tried to have the terrorist groups and the political parties that support them achieve the legitimacy they were previously unable to attain. This is why such processes, which use deceitful language to garner the support of the majority in societies that are eager to see an end to violence, can become instruments to combat the effective counter-terrorist policies that have been responsible for the de-legitimization of terrorism as referred to above. In the Spanish context, where ETA’s lack of willingness to put an end to violence remained, actions were undertaken in order to allow a ‘peace process’ to move forward even though those moves were counter to recovering the freedoms so sought by the victims after being deprived of their rights for so long. Marginalizing the victims Paradoxically, the marginalization of the victims of terrorism in Spain was justified by referring to the need to avoid future victims, thus distorting the demands of the victims with the precise intent of limiting their importance. This position was defended by insistently arguing that victims should not get in the way of the government’s counter-terrorist policy, although the victims were not the ones seeking to impose conditions. It was rather the ones who were accusing them of doing so who were actually imposing conditions. What the victims demanded was simply compliance with the law, and that it was not subjected to changing political will. This distortion is at the root of the role reversal on which the ‘peace process’ was built in Spain. The attempt was made to put those to whom a peace-loving role was attributed in confrontation with those who had been pigeon-holed as being intransigent, an adjective too often used to describe victims of terrorism who questioned the advisability of altering the principles on which the prior counter-terrorist policy was based. Thus, victims’ groups and the principal opposition party were stigmatized and described as intolerant and ‘enemies of peace’, while the other side was conversely presented as full of good intentions in its quest for peace.46 This type of reasoning led to victims being doubly victimized, as they were also placed on equal footing with their victimizers, since both groups supposedly opposed the solution that the ‘peace process’ was allegedly going to provide. In other instances victimization was even more grievous, when victimizers were raised to a higher plane than the victims. This occurred when

102 Leaving Terrorism Behind an active role in the ‘peace process’ for the victims of terrorism was denied while demanding the opposite for the perpetrators of terrorism. Often the latter were legitimized as necessary interlocutors, even to the extent of proposing that the democratic system should make accommodations to meet their demands. Some non-partisan civil movements denounced the legitimization of a terrorist organization on which the ‘peace process’ in the Basque Country was based. One of them, the group ¡Basta Ya!, issued a communiqué after the meeting between the Socialist Party of Euskadi and Batasuna leaders in July 2006 which called attention to the counterproductive effects of such an attitude. The text warned that ‘recognizing Batasuna as a necessary interlocutor would inevitably involve legitimizing violence to a certain degree as a valid political instrument, since this interlocutor represents none other than the interests of a terrorist group that has refused to disappear and is imposing conditions to definitively stop killing’. Therefore, the social movement stressed that ‘just holding the meeting amounted to a political payment to ETA because it recognized its political arm as a party that is just as legitimate as the truly democratic parties it has so cruelly persecuted all these years’. The widely respected civic movement concluded that, agreeing to negotiate politically with ETA may lead to the loss of an historic opportunity to defeat it definitively’.47 Along these same lines, a joint communiqué issued by ¡Basta Ya!, the Foro de Ermua (Ermua Forum) – another civic movement – and COVITE – Group of Victims of Terrorism in the Basque Country – reiterated a large number of citizens’ criticisms of the ‘misnamed peace process’ and the government policy of revoking the Pact for Freedom and against Terrorism through a series of troubling concessions to the terrorist organization.48 These associations rejected the concessions conceded in spite of ETA not having complied at any time with the conditions imposed by the Spanish Parliament in May 2005 which established that dialogue with those willing to abandon violence could only begin once the terrorist group had unequivocally demonstrated its willingness to give up terrorism. The different leverage of civic associations in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country constitutes another key differential feature when comparing the ‘peace processes’ in both areas. Since the late eighties and throughout the nineties, citizens’ mobilizations against violence in Spain generalized and became articulated in a number of associations such as Coordinadora Gesto por la Paz (Gesture for Peace) and others like the ones previously referred to. This civic response became a very prominent social feature across the Basque Country. Since the mid nineties, ETA has reacted to this social trend by physically and aggressively confronting demonstrations against terrorism. In addition, ETA pursued a systematic campaign of violence and intimidation against Basque citizens who did not share a nationalist ideology. The extent of these threats and abuses of human rights led the Spanish judge Baltasar Garzón to accuse ETA and Batasuna of pursuing a campaign

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of ‘ethnic cleansing’. Garzón’s report argued that both organizations had promoted the ‘depuration of the census’ in the Basque Country through the elimination of those citizens who would prevent a nationalist hegemony. These allegations have to be seen in the context of the ‘socialization of suffering’ advocated by ETA since the nineties which have resulted in the massive targeting of civilians and politicians in a deliberate attempt to spread fear and terror beyond the traditional targets of the violence perpetrated by the terrorist organization. This strategy coincides with ETA’s concerns, as expressed in an internal document dated July 1999, on the need to establish a ‘national census’ as well as the ‘definition of who is a citizen of Euskal Herria’49 and who is entitled to vote.50 The strong social reaction articulated in response to this type of widespread terrorist intimidation was complemented by a determined political support coming from the Spanish authorities. These developments considerably enhanced the influence of civic and victims’ associations around the consensus enshrined in the anti-terrorist agreement already referred to. Their active role determined the failure of measures implemented during the ‘peace process’, that were presented by the government as aiming at bringing terrorism to an end, but which were seen in a different light by victims and other sections of society. The government attempted to persuade public opinion of the necessity of certain initiatives that were justified by drawing parallels with other conflict areas. However, as will be explained below, the differential features of Spanish society would decisively influence the social response to policies that basically amounted to the appeasement of the terrorist group.

‘Mediators’ and ‘peacemakers’: traps in the name of peace Conflict resolution processes and their application to the Basque Country As stated above, external points of reference were being used to validate the Spanish government’s strategy vis-à-vis the ‘peace process’ and the victims of terrorism. Consequently the tendency to reinterpret the origin and the political and social consequences of ETA’s violence from a different perspective than that which had inspired counter-terrorist policy in previous years led the government to engage the services of the Henri Dunant Centre of Switzerland to mediate between government representatives and ETA. This was done despite questions arising over the appropriateness of extrapolating disparate experiences without strict contextualization work to enable rigorous parallels to be drawn, as I will discuss below. ‘Peacemakers, by definition, are impartial without being fair; it is not their task to make moral distinctions between aggressor and victim. Peacemakers also, by their very presence on a demarcation line, effectively ratify the conquests of aggressors and impede attempts by victims to recapture lost ground.’51 This statement by Michael Ignatieff serves to expose the mistakes

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often made by persons offering themselves as ‘experts’ in ‘conflict resolution’ and ‘peace processes’. The statement is applicable to those who defended a ‘peace process’ for the Basque Country based on criteria drawn from other scenarios – highly questionable as to their applicability in a completely different political and social context.52 This was the rationale of the so-called Permanent Group of International Advisors on the Peace Process formed at the behest of Juan José Ibarretxe, the Basque regional president. The group was made up of Roelf Meyer, former South African minister; Albert Reynolds, former Prime Minister of Ireland; Andrea Bartoli, head of the Centre for International Conflict Resolution at Columbia University; Harry Barnes, former head of the conflict resolution department at the Carter Centre; and Joanna Weschler, a member of Human Rights Watch. The Basque president resorted to these personalities in order to have a nationalist political view validated by the opinions of observers who were profoundly unfamiliar with the terrorist phenomenon in the Basque Country. Institutional nationalism sought in this way to give legitimacy to political negotiations with the terrorist organization, disguising the harmful compromise of rights and freedoms of such a proposal in the context of the Basque Country as an innocuous dialogue based on a generic conflict resolution model supported by ‘experts’. Irrespective of the important differences that can be appreciated between the terrorist phenomenon in the Basque Country and other scenarios abroad, international experiences of violent conflicts were constantly used in support of the ‘peace process’ with ETA since 2004. The attempt to justify negotiations with ETA by drawing parallels with other areas throughout the world was also evident in some sections of the Spanish media, as exemplified in a number of articles published in El País, one of the most popular and influential newspapers in the country. Two articles published on 10 and 11 December 2006 represented a sampling of the approaches called for by self-proclaimed ‘professional mediators’ in the Basque Country, revealing a broad and disquieting lack of knowledge of the terrorist situation in Spain which could hardly contribute to the disappearance of ETA. The testimony of ‘five expert participants in peace negotiations in Northern Ireland, South Africa, Colombia, El Salvador, Sri Lanka and Sudan’ were used literally to demand a ‘political price’ and ‘concessions’ from the Spanish government in the face of ETA. They did this by calling for ‘universal rules’ applicable to ‘all peace processes’ on which they justified their opinions, despite the evident differences among such disparate cases. This bold assumption was a serious mistake that distorted their later arguments right from the start, since the exceptional nature of ETA’s terrorism made any such generalization impossible, a blunder also committed by other ‘experts’ like the ones selected by Ibarretxe. With the democratic process put into place after the demise of the Franco regime, Spanish democracy has remedied the grievances that legitimized

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nationalist terrorism in its beginnings in the eyes of some sectors of society. In a region that for three decades now has been governed by nationalists, the consolidation of democratic institutions repaired the democratic deficit that for some justified the violence that has become increasingly more rejected by the Basque people. Nowadays explicit outright support for ETA has virtually disappeared among the Basque citizens, and even among ETA’s political constituency.53 Under those circumstances it is very harmful to assume that the integration of an anti-system element should require changing the rules and actions that achieved this drop in support for terrorism. The development of the democratic framework and the needed defence of its legitimacy has completely conditioned policies regarding ETA, thus making it impossible to equate the situation in Spain with any of the contexts in which the referred-to ‘mediators’ define themselves as being ‘experts.’ This is the case, furthermore, because ETA’s terrorism has not been countered with a violent response from a society that, despite suffering and provocation, has always avoided revenge, and entrusted its security and its demand for justice to the State. While the ‘mediators’ were overlooking these absolutely definitive differentiating features, they also seemed to be unaware that legal and political impunity for the violators of human rights had not brought genuine peace in the contexts in which it had been imposed. Academics who have analysed ‘peace processes’ in Latin America have concluded that justice based on sanctions on the perpetrators of violence was a necessary, but often overlooked, requirement for the successful resolution of brutal conflicts.54 This principle remains even more appropriate in the Spanish context where a just political system has been in existence for decades now. However, the ‘peace process’ in Spain was sustained upon different premises, as can be inferred from the view expressed in 2005 by an influential Spanish opinion-former: ‘We will always have a problem with memory, reconciliation and reparation, whether or not a peace process is undertaken with ETA, a process that the right is already mystifying, that would not involve political concessions and would lead to an agreement on prisoners responsible for horrible killings. This contradicts the spirit of reparation and justice, but the issue is whether future peace and social harmony are worth renouncing the past.’55 Victims as ‘enemies of peace’ versus the ‘peace-seeking’ terrorist Even if we set aside the fact that numerous events revealed the existence of evident ‘political concessions’ during the Basque ‘peace process’, it would also be highly questionable whether the need to reach an undefined ‘peace’ could be placed before the undeniable need for ‘reparation and justice’ in a democratic society. This much could be inferred from the following analysis put forward by a victim of ETA’s terrorism: ‘Any government should pay heed to the moral righteousness of the victims in their demand for justice in this matter. This is the reason, three months before he was murdered, when

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there was also speculation about potential negotiations taking place, why my brother, Fernando Buesa, stated that “whoever commits a crime is not pardoned by the fact that the crime is said to be politically motivated; because to think that justice should be governed by political criteria is to negate justice itself”. And it is this same reasoning to which we, the people, must appeal in demanding democratic behaviour from the government, aimed at protecting the weak and ensuring equality before the law.’56 At the same time, the Northern Irish precedent, continually referred to by those supporting a ‘peace process’ in Spain, also warns of the counterproductive results in eradicating terrorism of attitudes against reparation and justice. When examining steps taken in Northern Ireland after the cessation of violence, we see that the commendable quest for peace was used as an instrument of coercion in a society in which progress toward this goal was dependent upon a certain degree of impunity or forgetfulness that was justified by the need to confront the future with a so-called pragmatism that involved putting analysis of the past on the back burner. In this and other contexts, such impunity or forgetfulness brought about the shelving of judicial cases under way against persons responsible for violent crimes prior to the beginning of the ‘peace process’. In the case of Northern Ireland, this impunity also took the form of a gradual and complete release of prisoners sentenced for terrorist crimes prior to the signature of the so-called Good Friday Agreement in April 1998. The release from prison of prisoners sentenced for terrorist crimes was justified as a necessary measure to achieve the pacification and normalization of Northern Ireland. However, the political, legal and moral impunity that it provided raises many questions about its appropriateness.57 In reality, some of those who defended it at the time have subsequently acknowledged how counterproductive it was. In this context, the early release programme was revealed as having fuelled reasoning aimed at a dangerous legitimization of violence, as it favoured a narrative of conflict based on overlooking the responsibility of those who resorted to terrorism. This dynamic led to a situation of indulgence that strengthened those who practised terrorism: prisoners were released despite the fact that the terrorist organizations continued to exist and to extort. At the same time, the victims, who continued to demand justice and reparation, were presented as a necessary and inevitable wrong, whereby the injustices committed against them acquired some justification and sense since they were identified as a result of the circumstances at the time. This type of narrative perverts memory and history, overlooking the fact that the majority of the people never resorted to terrorism despite having suffered it, and is thus a disincentive to respect for democratic values. The prison releases underestimated how these factors decisively affect the political sphere. However, the current situation in Northern Ireland, characterized by a deeply-rooted political and social polarization, would indicate that democracy cannot function correctly with such a deficit. This confirms that

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‘doing justice for past victims is a necessary condition for a political future without violence’, since ‘justice for the victims is not just a moral problem, but also a political one’.58 In this regard, the conclusions of Seamus Mallon, prominent leader of what was up to 2001 the most widely supported nationalist party in Northern Ireland, the SDLP, led for decades by John Hume, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize in 1998, are particularly edifying. In Mallon’s opinion, ‘peace’ would and should have been achieved in ‘another way’ different to the one used by Prime Minister Tony Blair. This conviction led the Northern Irish leader to reject the use of the term ‘peace process’ because of its negative implications in resolving the region’s problems.59 Both Mallon and Hume were part of the Civil Rights movement that brought together Catholics and Protestants in the mid-1960s to demand ‘civil rights for British subjects’ in the region, thus placing equal rights before the dogmatic, identity-driven nationalism of the supporters of IRA terrorism. However, these figures, who represented the majority voice of a community against terrorism, were undermined in recent years by British Government policy, profuse in symbolic concessions to those who used violence. This dynamic inevitably weakened those who had always backed peaceful methods. As prominent British and Irish politicians and officials have acknowledged, this policy destroyed the moderates in terms of election support and strengthened the extremists, and with that established a dangerous historic narrative that does not do justice to those who had always opposed terrorism. This outcome had a demoralizing effect on those who abided by the law. Therefore, British policy during the ‘peace process’ considerably undermined political leaders such as John Hume and David Trimble, both recipients of the Nobel Peace Prize in 1998, seriously weakening their influence in society and politics while strengthening less moderate parties.60 To this extent, former Secretary of State Peter Mandelson criticized Blair’s approach for engaging in ‘unreasonable’ and ‘irresponsible’ behaviour by giving too much credence to ‘excessive’ IRA demands. This policy of ‘conceding and capitulating’ to republican demands ended up ‘alienating unionists and upsetting nationalists’ by ignoring the fact that on that side of the community political forces like Sinn Fein and the SDLP were in competition for the same votes’.61 A similar critical view was also expressed by Dr Mitchell Reiss, President Bush’s former special envoy to Ireland. He criticized the British Government approach to the ‘peace process’ and what he saw as Tony Blair’s indulgence of IRA demands. In Reiss’s view Sinn Fein became used to the British government ‘doling out benefits’ in the face of the IRA demands in exchange for decommissioning of weapons, ending criminality and endorsing the new Police Service of Northern Ireland.62 Seamus Mallon summarized the counterproductive effects derived from the government’s policy as follows: ‘Anyone who knows the north of Ireland would not have contemplated

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actions which sold middle unionism to Paisley, just as the same way in which our party [the SDLP] was treated.’63 Factors such as the ones that are being outlined make the ‘political price’ demanded in exchange for the ‘peace process’ in the Basque Country by the aforementioned ‘experts’ totally counterproductive. The demands inspired in outside ‘conflict resolution processes’ are clearly based on an unfair inequality of those who have responded to the terrorism inflicted on them with respect for the law. The acceptance of the bargaining tactics proposed for the Spanish context would be no incentive to ETA to stop posing a threat after seeing how effective it can be. ETA’s propagandistic front has constantly sought legitimacy through rhetoric very similar to that articulated by ‘experts’ in ‘peace processes’. Revealingly, only weeks before the terrorist group killed two people after planting a huge bomb at Madrid’s international airport, the ‘experts’ previously referred to used the same ETA terminology in suggesting that ‘the process would putrefy’ if terrorists were not offered ‘concessions’. These were the exact terms used in the articles of reference published in December 2006 in El País, a newspaper that supported the government’s negotiations with ETA. Very significantly these precise terms were also used by the daily Gara, a newspaper that is close to the ETA-sympathizer community, as an authoritative argument to justify the breaking of the truce by the terrorist group. The newspaper used the articles published in El País to explain the terrorists’ response as a reasonable one, since the government had not made sufficient progress in relation to its demands for impunity, demands which were corroborated by the ‘experts’ in ‘conflict resolution’.64 Statements by interlocutors that have presented themselves as ‘mediators’ were characterized by exempting ETA from any responsibility in the resolution of a conflict that in reality was shown to emanate fundamentally from the existence of a terrorist organization that coerces and conditions the lives of the people and the political processes. This interpretation of reality applies the same mechanisms of diffusion of responsibility and guilt transfer as has been used by the terrorist organization for decades. Neither was the logic offered by one of Batasuna’s representatives very different when he stated that ‘here there is a political class that is not interested in resolving the conflict’ after accusing the democratic parties of ‘spitting’ at ETA when the group had said that ‘it wanted to put an end to the war.’65 It was inferred from all this that those who did not endorse the model the terrorist group was seeking to impose should be seen as ‘enemies’ and ‘obstructers of peace’ despite being the direct victims of the terrorist threat. These expressions were also skilfully used by IRA and Sinn Fein leaders such as Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness. When voices were raised in Northern Ireland stating that the truly damaging thing for peace was to accept it as essential that not all the players should play by the same democratic rules, claiming that the use of violence resulted in benefits that true democrats did not enjoy, they were often met with criticism from individuals

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accusing them of obstructing the road to peace. Therefore, when the IRA broke the ceasefire in 1996 some politicians and journalists blamed it on the British prime minister at the time, John Major, coinciding with the interpretation of the group actually responsible for resuming the terrorism. The same thing happened with IRA disarmament, when those making such a reasonable demand were branded as ‘enemies of peace’. The term ‘enemies of peace’ has been used in Spain by some parties in order to criticize their political adversaries, also accusing them of ‘putting obstacles in the way of peace’, and actually engaging in an exercise that was beneficial to the terrorist organization, the true enemy of peace. Some judges were also threatened with this label if they did not play along with a ‘peace process’ in which arbitrary political decisions would prevail over justice and democratic principles.66 Therefore, efforts were made under the pretext of seeking peace to consolidate positions that overlooked the reality of terrorism: ETA has systematically violated human rights, and therefore peace and conflict resolution require it to be defeated politically. It is mandatory that such a defeat be achieved in order to prevent the terrorist organization and its supporters from obtaining the legitimacy they seek to achieve by reproducing their version of the conflict and imposing the way it supposedly should be resolved.

Conclusions The comparative analysis of the ‘peace processes’ in Spain and the United Kingdom designed as an attempt to achieve the end of terrorism reveal the need to properly analyse the causes and consequences of violence in both regions as well as the effects of certain government polices vis-à-vis ETA and the IRA. Comparisons between the two areas have often ignored the real aetiology of ETA’s terrorism, which can be found in the ideological absolutism of fanatical individuals who seek the violent imposition of a set of nationalist tenets. The unyielding adherence to these fundamental beliefs that ETA has maintained over the years, refusing to reach any compromise about the end of violence even if those goals were achieved, lies at the root of ETA’s terrorist campaign. By ignoring these causes and accepting a model for the ending of terrorism which includes concessions such as those described above, the very eradication of terrorism can be undermined. The ‘peace process’ endorsed by the Spanish government between 2004 and 2007 accepted a dynamic based on the strengthening of the political wing of the terrorist movement in the belief that such an approach would contribute to the disappearance of the terrorist group. However, as events have clearly demonstrated, ETA and Batasuna are not separate entities but, rather, instruments of a movement seeking the same goals. Both ETA and Batasuna long for power which, paradoxically, could be facilitated by the State by considering that a tactical renunciation of violence is genuinely equivalent to an authentic metamorphosis of the terrorist movement and its disappearance.

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The Northern Ireland ‘peace process’ has acted as an influence for those in Spain who have been eager to apply some of the policies implemented by the British government in relation to the IRA. Very often these comparisons have rested on the elision of the differences between the political and social contexts in which the terrorist phenomena have developed in both areas. This has been done by homogenizing the common denominator of these and other conflicts – violence – while undermining the distinctive features of each of them. Consequently the Northern Ireland ‘peace process’ has been widely manipulated in order to justify political concessions from the Spanish government in the face of ETA. It has been common to assume in an uncritical way the need to export the Northern Ireland model irrespective of the shortcomings evident in some of the initiatives introduced there. To this extent, the lack of attention paid to the demands of victims of terrorism, the exceptional legal measures adopted, such as the early release of prisoners, which have allowed for a degree of impunity, and the strengthening of the more extreme political parties, represent serious deficits that put into question the success of the Northern Ireland process. The acknowledgement of the need for awareness, recognition and justice reveals the negative effects that emerge from the absence of those requirements, as summarized by political analyst Fintan O’Toole when arguing that ‘a process that could meet those needs would not merely honour the dead, but disarm the habits of thought that helped to kill them’.67 Although the main terrorist groups in Northern Ireland have left terrorism behind, such a positive outcome cannot obscure the flaws derived from some of the methods used in pursuit of this goal. In this respect the idealistic model created around a set of policies labelled as part of a ‘peace process’ calls for a more critical reassessment. This is particularly necessary given the comparisons that are constantly drawn between the process of disengagement from terrorism that should take place in Spain and the one in Northern Ireland that should inspire the former. In the light of the ‘peace processes’ in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country terms such as ‘peace’, ‘dialogue’ and ‘negotiation’ have become the catchwords used by many politicians and the media. They have appeared with such profusion in political and social discourse that these concepts have often ended up imbued with a very specific intentionality that is contrary to their true meanings. In the Spanish case the ‘peace process’ was based on the need for society to show its agreement with government decisions despite the evident dissonance that emerged between reality and how it was presented by the authorities. In the attempt at glossing over these objectives so as not to show up the inconsistency in comparing the hope-filled desires of those in favour of the process with ETA and the criminal activities carried out by the group during the period of ‘ceasefire’, it was fundamental to disseminate propaganda through statements by authorities and a large number of opinion-formers.

Northern Ireland and the Basque Country 111 Language thereby arose as a tool to persuade the people of the need to support negotiation with a terrorist organization that remained active and did not at any time show a clear and unequivocal intention to put an end to violence. In this context, the use of deceptive language, full of euphemisms, presented a real negotiation between the representatives of a democratic government and those of a criminal organization as if it was a mere, innocent dialogue between two well-intentioned interlocutors, or even as a generous act by participants embarked upon a ‘long, hard, and difficult peace process’ set forth as necessary to achieve a useful end: the prevention of more killings. Emotionally-charged language was used to crystallize stereotypes in order to structure reality in a certain way. Such tactics are similar to those used by different terrorist organizations themselves through their propaganda front organizations. Consider, for example, how using abundantly positive terms such as ‘peace’ and ‘dialogue’, a predisposition was sought towards certain thinking that would redefine the context of negotiations with ETA despite its noncompliance with the conditions set forth by the prime minister himself in the resolution of May 2005, when the Spanish Congress agreed that there would only be dialogue with ETA if the terrorist group showed a clear willingness to put an end to terrorism. Such prerequisites clearly were not met. Thus, while the continued acts of violence by the terrorist group were being overlooked, language went to work for politics, with insistence in the public discourse on the incompatibility between violence and dialogue despite the fact that negotiations with ETA carried on even though the group continued to threaten and extort. Therefore, the language used by politicians and opinion-formers contained lies for the purpose of deceiving society, as shown by the testimony of the President of the Foundation for Victims of Terrorism, Maite Pagazaurtundua: ‘There are frivolous references to the number of days without deaths. These are not days without deaths, they are days without attacks, because the murders are irreversible, and for loved ones, every day since a human being is murdered is one more day with death. The mourning over terrorist victims does not end until justice is done, specific justice in which those responsible are made to face up to their responsibility before society, and the general justice that consists of defeating them, not in working out a deal with those who did not respect the life and dignity of their fellow man and women and who feel no guilt over it.’68 Pagazaurtundua’s words showed the serious mistake committed by the Attorney General of the State, Cándido Conde-Pumpido, when he argued that ‘there are hardly any terrorist victims any more’.69 The criteria used by such a high judicial authority underestimated the victimization of persons who were still threatened by the terrorist organizations, as illustrated by the remarks of José Guillermo Zubía, Secretary-General of the Basque business confederation (Confebask), denouncing unceasing extortion by ETA, with threatening letters being sent to businessmen enclosing photographs and

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surveillance data on family members. Zubía appropriately recalled the words of Socialist politician Fernando Buesa, murdered by ETA in 2000, who said that ‘there’s one kind of violence that kills and another kind of violence that doesn’t let you live’. The business confederation leader reiterated, therefore, that ‘extortion’ and any ‘attack’ constituted very serious facts in and of themselves in which there were victims, such as the business owner, his/her family and the employees, and denouncing the fact that the opposite was being considered when underestimating this type of terrorist action.70 It should be concluded, therefore, that the ‘peace process’ was sustained by a dangerous manipulation of the reality surrounding ETA. The hiding of key facts around ETA’s activities was used to justify a ‘new social reality’ which conditioned some judicial actions, an attitude that persisted despite subsequent terrorist acts being perpetrated. This produced an unjust situation for citizens and victims of terrorism who mistrusted the intentions of the terrorist group and rejected any tolerance for its sympathizers. This distortion of the facts is the basis of the fictional separation of interests between Batasuna and ETA, whereby certain sectors have espoused impunity for the political arm of the terrorist organization as evidenced in its unquestioned de facto legalization and in the complacent treatment dispensed to its leadership.71 All this in spite of the fact that during the ‘peace process’ ETA had simply accommodated its tactics to developing a strategy that remained unchanged. These deceptive uses of language have served to legitimize the ETAsympathizer community, and caused division between politicians and citizens through harsh, unfounded criticism aimed at those who called attention to the inconsistency between Batasuna’s words and deeds. Despite the fact that the words of peace were not consistent with the acts of terror, the terrorist group was able to get around the fact that its constant demonstrations of violence were the only obstacle in the way of true peace, which to be achieved requires that the citizens who are deprived of freedom recover the ability to freely exercise their rights. Paradoxically, those who denounced this hijacking of language not limited to the terrorists and their sympathizers were disqualified as ‘enemies of peace’. Victims of terrorism and critics of the government’s strategy were stigmatized as ‘enemies of peace’ despite the well-founded, consistent reasons for their opposition. This disqualification negates, therefore, the decades of suffering from terrorism and the logical reluctance among broad victims’ sectors to engage in the compulsive act of faith required of them, as they quite rationally doubted the terrorist group’s nonexistent desire for peace. This model has not provided an incentive to Batasuna to demand from ETA its genuine disbandment.

7

The renunciation of violence by Egyptian jihadi organizations Diaa Rashwan

When discussing the renunciation of violence by Egyptian jihadi organizations, we must first define the groups and place them within the broader spectrum of Islamist groups in Egypt and the wider world. The Egyptian jihadi groups referred to here are the Gama  a al-Islamiya (literally, the Islamic Group) and the Jihad, both of which emerged in Egypt in the 1970s and engaged in various forms of violence and terrorism in the country. In the late 1990s, however, the two organizations renounced their old system of thought on which the violence and terrorism had been based and adopted a new system, abandoning all types of violence. Until they made this move, these two groups were responsible for more than 95 per cent of the terrorism in Egypt in this period.1

Rise and development The two organizations had different historical origins and evolved on sometimes divergent paths. According to most sources, the Jihad, the older organization, was the first of the jihadi groups formed in Egypt in the late 1960s. At its inception it contained 12 high-school and university students, among them Ayman al-Zawahiri, who became the group’s commander in 1993, and Sayyid Imam al-Sharif, who became the group’s commander in 1987 and was considered one of the most prominent jihadi ideologues in Egypt and the world.2 Several other jihadi groups were formed in the 1970s around the country, particularly in Cairo and Alexandria; sporadically emerging and disappearing, often many of the same people were involved and simply moved from one group to another. One of the most prominent of these groups was the so-called Military Technical Group, led by Palestinian educational specialist Salih Sirriya; the group tried to assassinate President Anwar al-Sadat and stage a coup in April 1974 – one of the first attempts by a local, Egyptian jihadi group to use violence to reach power.3 The Jihad continued to exist in this fashion until late 1980 and early 1981, when Muhammad  Abd al-Salam Farag, the author of al-Jihad: al-farida al-gha
iba (Jihad: the Neglected Duty), managed to unite most of the disparate groups into one organization, the Jihad Group, around the intellectual framework elaborated in his text.4

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In contrast, the Gama  a al-Islamiya emerged in Egyptian universities in the mid-1970s as part of the official Student Union under the name ‘the Religious Group’, adopting its current name in the second half of the same decade. It was largely composed of students in universities in Upper Egypt, particularly Asyut and Minya. At that time, the organization focused its efforts on the outreach mission in universities and the surrounding Upper Egyptian towns and cities from which the group’s members and leaders hailed. It gradually adopted the institution of the hisba, or the practice of enjoining the good and forbidding the evil, and started applying it by force in universities and its other spheres of influence. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, the group adopted the jihadi idea that the Egyptian political regime was an apostate regime that refused to apply Islamic law and that Egyptian society was in a state of ignorance. In turn, it came to support the idea of armed, violent confrontation with the regime with the purpose of overthrowing it and replacing it with an Islamic system of governance.5 In the summer of 1981, Muhammad  Abd al-Salam Farag was continuing his efforts to unite the small groups that made up the Jihad with the Gama  a al-Islamiya, bringing them together into one group, the Jihad Organization. Several historical accounts make it clear that the Jihad and the Gama  a alIslamiya did conclude a union in order to carry out their primary mission at the time: bringing down the rule of President al-Sadat and instituting an Islamic state in Egypt. While the new, united organization assassinated President al-Sadat at a military showcase held to commemorate the 1973 war on 6 October 1981 the group’s wing in Asyut, in Upper Egypt, staged a violent coup that ultimately failed. The Gama  a al-Islamiya played the more prominent role in the attempted coup, given its extensive presence in the region.6 Yet even before the union dissolved in 1984, there were significant differences between the Jihad and the Gama  a al-Islamiya, perhaps the most prominent being the organizations’ geographic reach and coverage. The Gama  a alIslamiya was born and later focused in the south, in Upper Egypt, after which it spread to poor, informal areas in greater Cairo. The small groups that later formed the Jihad, on the other hand, evolved in greater Cairo and in northern Egypt, and were only rarely found in Upper Egypt. The different geographic reach of the two groups meant that they evolved in different historical circumstances, and it also entailed different conceptions of the best way to overthrow the ruling regime and establish an Islamic state. The Gama  a al-Islamiya relied on a mixture of public and clandestine activities. The first allowed it to recruit members from a broad grassroots base, while the second allowed the creation of several effective military wings. As such, the Gama  a al-Islamiya saw the best way to overthrow the regime and establish an Islamic state as a combination of popular rebellions and broad, repeated violent military operations. The Gama  a spread across Upper Egypt and finally extended to greater Cairo, where it sought to establish a popular, grassroots and military presence. In contrast, the Jihad’s idea of change involved sudden military action against the state leadership in Cairo and the

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seizure of power in the capital, which led the Jihad to concentrate its presence in Cairo and nearby areas while trying to recruit as many professional soldiers and military personnel as possible, not university students and graduates, as was the case with the Gama  a al-Islamiya. The differences between the two movements also entailed different forms of military violence. The Jihad favoured the use of more professional, destructive military methods, such as grenades, bombs, explosives, and occasionally suicide attacks. The Jihad also directed its attacks on the Egyptian high leadership, seen in its attempts to assassinate the prime minister and interior minister in 1993 and 1994. The Gama  a al-Islamiya, on the other hand, focused on any accessible target, including soldiers, junior or senior police officers, political officials, and even the tourism industry, which is vital to Egypt’s economy. In their attacks, the Gama  a used more primitive methods than the Jihad, largely automatic weapons and firearms.7 After the alliance between the two groups fell apart in 1984, all the distinctions and differences between them emerged following serious disputes among their respective leaders in Egyptian prisons. According to witnesses of this stage, the differences between the two groups boiled down to three issues: a mixture of theoretical and ideological perspectives and operational methods. The theoretical dispute revolved around the issue of ignorance as an excuse in religious duties, which impinged on the way the two groups viewed and judged Egyptian society and its members as well as the practical issue of who could be recruited into the two groups. The Gama  a al-Islamiya believed in the excuse of ignorance, which led it to recruit members who did not comply with what it viewed as the rules of Islam when they were recruited; this perspective was consistent with its nature as a semi-public, semi-clandestine organization. In contrast, the Jihad rejected the excuse of ignorance, which was also consistent with the group’s narrow, elite, highly secretive nature. The second issue, both practical and intellectual, was about the nature of each group’s activities and whether they should be entirely clandestine or not. The Jihad favoured total secrecy while the Gama  a leaned towards a combination. The third dispute was a consequence of the previous two: who should be the commander of the united group? The Gama  a al-Islamiya favoured the Azhar-educated blind sheikh,  Umar  Abd al-Rahman, while the Jihad chose a former military intelligence officer,  Abbud al-Zumur. As a result, a dispute emerged over an issue of jurisprudence, namely the conditions that must be met for the post of commander. The Jihad clung to the axiom that the blind could hold no power, in a reference to  Abd al-Rahman, while the Gama  a insisted that a prisoner could hold no power, a reference to the fact that  Abbud al-Zumur remained in prison after the release of  Abd al-Rahman. As a result of these theoretical and practical disagreements, the united Jihad Group split and reverted to two groups: the Gama  a al-Islamiya and the Jihad.8

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Position of the Gama‘a al-Islamiya and Jihad in the spectrum of Islamist movements By Islamist movements, we mean those groups that take some aspect of Islam or its interpretation as the frame of reference for their existence or objectives. They act in different ways to apply Islam as they see it in their societies, countries and fields of action.9 The intellectual component is vital in distinguishing between various Islamist movements. Despite other criteria that could be used to classify these movements – their social origins, political ideas, or operational tactics – a movement’s intellectual underpinnings remains the firmest basis on which to classify it. Islamist groups may differ in how they relate their intellectual, political or social enterprise to Islam and its principles, and they may disagree in their interpretation of some of these principles, but they all believe that their enterprise is related to Islam and they describe it as ‘Islamic’. While an intellectual foundation is important for every political or social movement, it is particularly important for Islamist movements. For some of them it constitutes a sacred religious text that they aspire to apply without amendment or interpretation, while for others it is the major frame of reference that takes precedence over all others. The decisive influence of intellectual foundations extends to all aspects of Islamist movements, from their names, the symbols and terms they adopt, their organizational structures, to their strategies and operational tactics. This distinguishes them from other social and political movements.10 Islamist movements can be divided into two main groups, united only by the fact that they link themselves to Islam, but with profound differences in the way they see and interpret their relationship to Islam: sociopolitical groups with an Islamic platform and religious groups. The two Egyptian groups that are the focus of this analysis belong to the latter type, which can in turn be divided into subgroups based on the way they view the contemporary reality of Muslims and existing governing systems in their countries and how this corresponds to the two major phases in the life of the Prophet Muhammad: the Meccan and Medinian phases. Generally speaking, these movements are based on a specific reading of Islam and the Qur
an that sees members of societies and states only through the lens of doctrinal authenticity or correctness. They do not show much concern for other levels and sources of jurisprudence and Islamic law. For these movements, the main issue – perhaps the only issue – is establishing God’s true religion as they see it. As such, the faith of individuals, societies and countries is the one theme characterizing their thought and action. For these groups, the Qur
an, the prophetic hadith, and some selected texts of the pious ancestors represent the virtual sole source of ideas, and organizational and operational experience. They tend to interpret these texts literally, using the most apparent meaning of the words, preferring an exegesis based on the general usage of words rather than the specific reason for which or instance in which the words were

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revealed or spoken. In general, this leads these groups to make hasty judgments about the godlessness or unbelief of states and the ignorance of societies and individuals. The main objective of these groups is to re-Islamicize societies and states – and, for some, individuals as well – for in the view of these movements they have all deviated from Islam in varying degrees. Religious Islamist movements differ in their comparison of the present time with the time of the Prophet. One group believes that we are living in a time most closely resembling the era of the first da wa, or the early propagation of Islam in Mecca before the flight to Medina. The second group believes that the Medinian era and what followed are closer to the contemporary situation. In turn, this difference puts religious Islamist movements into two very different camps: peaceful, extremist movements and violent, jihadi movements. The present study is concerned with the latter type, but this group can also be divided into further subgroups. Violent, jihadi groups believe that today’s world is a mirror of the Medinian phase of early Islamic history, that time when faith and religion melded with the idea of a state to create politics. For these movements, contemporary societies and states have reverted to the state of ignorance that prevailed before Islam. Individuals are, of course, part of this general deterioration, although they may not all necessarily be infidels or apostates until it is proven by word or deed. These movements agree that governments in Muslim countries have forsaken Islam and are responsible for the state of ignorance lived by their societies and for resisting the forces of unity, which these movements believe they represent. According to this reading of society, these groups do not think it possible to re-propagate Islam and call their societies to it; there is no place in this view for the gentle Meccan discourse of summoning people to Islam; rather, they seek to master society and re-Islamicize it on the same foundations upon which the Medinian state rested. Religious violence, or jihad as these movements call it, is virtually the sole means adopted to achieve these objectives, through constant efforts to expand the movement’s membership and organization. These movements see themselves as ‘the believing group’ that will reinstate Islam in their countries and repel the aggressions of its foreign enemies. In the words of Sayyid Qutb, the spiritual father of violent jihadi movements, the mission of these movements, or Islam as he sees it, is to ‘remove the pre-Islamic ignorance from the leadership of men’. This requires first eliminating regimes and governments based on ‘man’s rule of man and humanity’s worship of humanity’.11 As a result of the differing circumstances in which violent jihadi movements have emerged, they can be classified into at least three different categories. All embrace the basic principles elaborated above, but they differ in their operational priorities. These three types are locally based movements, separatist movements, and internationally based movements. Locally based movements, to which both the Gama  a al-Islamiya and the Jihad belong, exist solely in the Islamic world and operate on the principle that the near enemy is more worthy of fighting than the distant enemy. For them, the near enemy is represented by the governments of their own countries; overthrowing them

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through combat is the primary task of these movements. Although jihad is a duty for Muslims to defend their faith and religion from any assault by a nonMuslim external enemy from the house of war, this type of violent jihadi movement turns the jihad inward to their own governments, which they try to uproot and replace with an Islamic regime. Since theoretically it has proven difficult to classify their home countries as the house of war, but equally difficult to recognize them as the house of Islam, they have created a new concept – ‘the mixed house’ – in which Islam coexists with ignorance and unbelief, in order to describe and justify their religious violence as jihad. These movements’ understanding of jihad against their governments reflects their belief that these governments are infidel governments that are hostile to Islam, while at the same time it seeks to benefit from the positive connotations of the original sense of jihad – an external, or defensive war – among Muslims in general. Both the Gama  a al-Islamiya and the Jihad in Egypt belonged to this subset of jihadi groups, before the Jihad underwent changes that pushed it into the camp of international jihadi groups.12

Nature of violence practised by the two groups Based on this militant doctrinal, intellectual foundation, since the mid-1970s, the Jihad and later the Gama  a al-Islamiya engaged in various forms of violence against the Egyptian state and society. In fact, the violence was at heart religious, rather than political, as some believe, for it was entirely linked to the militant religious viewpoint of the two groups. As a concept, violence itself has been explored and subdivided into various categories that at times seem wholly distinct and at others interrelated and blurred. Although the social sciences have drawn broad outlines of different types of violence, they remain interlocking and sometimes prevent a precise, accurate examination of their natures and particularities. It would be more accurate to say that a particular type of violence can best be defined by examining its objective and its intellectual underpinnings or justifications.13 Thus we can define religious violence, or Islamic violence in our case, as that which is perpetrated by individuals, groups or institutions who use various types of coercion to re-Islamicize society and state, based on a deep-seated belief that state and society are in a state of ignorance or unbelief. The system of thought that justifies this violence is based entirely on a doctrinal, faith-based model that proves the truth and legitimacy of the violence and its ends, and this model is that referred to above and embraced by both the Gama  a al-Islamiya and the Jihad prior to their renunciation of it. If most of the religious violence perpetrated by the two groups was enacted in the political sphere and targeted figures from the political system, this does not make it political violence. Rather, those doing the violence were convinced that political authority was the primary – if not sole – means of achieving their religious, doctrinal ends.14 At this point, it is necessary to distinguish between religious violence and the concept of jihad, which in the Islamic historical tradition has clearly

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defined components. Islamic thought divides the jihad, which is directed at those outside the community, into defensive jihad and offensive jihad. The first is a duty for every Muslim to defend their faith, lives, land and honour in the event of any attack on it from a non-Muslim enemy coming from outside the house of Islam. In contrast, the offensive jihad is a duty for the Islamic state, waged to bring in non-Muslim people and territories from the house of war into the house of Islam, such that they become part of the Islamic faith and the Islamic nation or community. Clear rules derived from the Qur
an and Sunna are laid out for both the offensive and defensive jihads, which prevent jihad from becoming terrorism or religious violence that intimidates civilians and non-combatants and threatens their lives, security and property.15

The old system of thought The Gama  a al-Islamiya and the Jihad engaged in religious violence based on a militant doctrine fed by various, sometimes divergent sources, though both groups agreed on the importance of the works of Sayyid Qutb, particularly his famed Ma alim fi-l-tariq (Signposts on the Road), his exegesis of the Qur
an (Fi zilal al-Qur
an), and some of his later works, as well as Muhammad  Abd al-Salam Farag’s al-Farida al-gha
iba.16 The first works representing an independent intellectual framework for the Gama  a al-Islamiya came out of Egyptian prisons, after the group’s leaders were arrested following al-Sadat’s assassination. Most significant was  Mithaq al-  amal al-Islami
(Document for Islamic Action), which summarized the group’s ideological perspective, explaining its beliefs, objectives and means for achieving them, and other basic pillars of its thought and the movement.17 The Gama  a al-Islamiya produced several documents and books in this period, all of which aimed to define the group’s method for ‘calling people to God, enjoining the good and forbidding the evil, and jihad in the path of God, carried out by a group whose actions are regulated by Hanafite law, and who scorn hypocrisy or sluggishness, and absorb past experience’. The group believed that ‘jihad is combat – that is, confrontation and blood; limiting the jihad to peaceful means such as writing, orating, preparation through the intellectual and academic education of the community, or competing with politicians in their parties or via their political methods – even excessive concern with emigration – is cowardice and feebleness. Muslims will only be victorious through armed force, and Muslims must engage in jihad no matter how few they are.’ At the time, the Gama  a al-Islamiya adopted the idea of the ‘inevitable clash’. As it said, ‘Those groups [of people] who associate themselves with Islam but refuse to comply with some of its laws shall be fought until they comply with the laws they have abandoned, and the police and others who have aided them, though they be compelled, shall be fought.’ The objective was to ‘overthrow the infidel ruler who has replaced God’s law’, ‘establish the caliphate and appoint a caliph for the Muslims’, and ‘liberate the country, save prisoners, and propagate religion’.18

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The Jihad, in addition to the works of Sayyid Qutb and  Abd al-Salam Farag, relied on other internal sources written by its own leaders who had been active since the late 1960s. Most of these have disappeared with time, but the most prominent remaining source is the slim volume, Risalat al-iman, written by Palestinian educational expert Salih Sirriya, who led the group that launched the failed coup in 1974. Like the Gama  a al-Islamiya, the Jihad produced theoretical and ideological works in prison, and these were later used as the basis of its practical operations.19 The group explained that it had taken the name Jihad because ‘jihad is what the members of this group have agreed upon, not because religion is jihad alone’. The group believed that ‘jihad and calling people to God’s religion are the most important means of establishing God’s religion and His law on earth. As for knowledge and education, they must serve jihad, not impede it. This does not mean that the group’s activities are limited to jihad. Rather the group performs the other duties of Islam insofar as is possible, although it gives precedence to jihad over other duties if they conflict. The purpose of the name, then, is to distinguish the group, not limit it.’ The group upheld the ‘unbelief of nations, systems, and institutions that rule by something other than God’s revelation or appeal to something other than God’s law or compel or call people to accept systems contrary to Islam, such as secularism, democracy, or socialism’. As such, the Jihad sought to achieve its objectives by propagating Islam and ‘taking action to depose the tyrants who do not rule by God’s law, establish Islamic governance, and reinstate the Islamic caliphate’. This would take place through ‘the formation of a Muslim group, well-prepared both religiously and militarily’. This group must be a clandestine group since ‘secrecy in jihad is the capital of the mujahidin; it saves them much effort and enables them to surprise the enemy’.20 There are several reasons for the two groups’ preference for these type of ideas and militant interpretations of Islam, perhaps the most prominent being the way the groups read Islam’s sacred texts and its long history. As noted above, they favoured taking the apparent meaning of the texts, disregarding the circumstances of revelation, and tended to generalize forced conclusions without further examination or the use of historical or objective analogies. In addition, the immersion in Islamic sacred texts without reference to the domestic social reality or international politics or an engagement with their surrounding reality made the groups and their ideologues prisoners of texts that they interpreted literally, without taking recourse to other Islamic methods of exegesis. In contrast to the assumption of many observers, most of the members of the two groups were products of the civil educational system, not a religious education; indeed, this may be one reason they did not have full familiarity with the various schools of Islamic thought and were unable to compare what they believed with other interpretations. A perusal of the intellectual works of the two groups clearly shows that they were limited to the religious, jihadi school of thought and were uninfluenced by other trends in Islamic jurisprudence and thought. This suggests that

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those who produced these works were unfamiliar with these other schools of thought. The serious disparity between these organizations’ material forces, particularly military, and the forces of those they were fighting fostered further extremism. The deep-seated sense of material and military weakness was perhaps one factor that led these movements to search for the quickest, easiest means of harming their enemies. These groups tended to use their literal interpretation of sacred Islamic texts to extract fatwas and rules that justified targeting civilians, tourists, and government employees, particularly security personnel. The clandestine, paramilitary nature of both the Gama  a alIslamiya and the Jihad and the severe security crackdown on them fostered the uncritical adoption of these fatwas and rulings among the groups’ members and sympathizers, a situation exacerbated by the fact that most of them had not been educated in the religious sciences or Islamic history. Finally, the Egyptian security establishment’s inhumane treatment of members of the two groups, particularly detainees, certainly fostered militancy and extremism and encouraged more violence against the state and society.21

The process of revision The Gama  a al-Islamiya and the Jihad continued to adhere to this system of thought and engage in religious violence in the name of jihad until 5 July 1997, when six members of the historical leadership of the Gama  a and the Jihad issued a short statement declaring an end to all combat operations in Egypt and abroad, a move that later became known as the initiative to cease the violence.22 That marked the beginning of an active, profound process of reassessment and revision, begun by the Gama  a al-Islamiya and followed by the Jihad in the first half of 2007.23 During the past ten years, this process of revision has led to the complete cessation of all acts of religious violence by the Gama  a al-Islamiya, with the exception of the massacre in Luxor perpetrated on 17 November 1997 by members of the group who had not been informed of the leadership’s initiative and suspension of violence. During the same period – indeed since 1994 – the Jihad has committed no act of violence in Egypt, a fact partly attributable to its incapacity and partly to the declared desire of some of its leaders to end the violence along with the Gama  a al-Islamiya. Since that time, the Jihad has also engaged in a thoroughgoing revision of its thought that has just recently come to fruition. As a result, since the attacks on New York and Washington of 11 September 2001, the scene in Egypt has been quite different from that in much of the world, including other Arab and Middle Eastern states, on at least two major points. First of all, while security services around the world, particularly American and Western establishments, were pursuing jihadi Islamists and suspects and throwing hundreds of them into detention facilities and secret prisons, Egypt released the more than 20,000 members of the Gama  a al-Islamiya detained in its prisons; it also began releasing Jihad

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members, at increasing rates in late 2007. Secondly, in the six years following September 11, many Arab and Islamic countries in the Middle East, the Gulf, and even North Africa have witnessed unprecedented violence from jihadi groups and cells, while Egypt has been spared most of the violence and terrorism, with the exception of the three attacks in Sinai in 2004, 2005 and 2006, which took place far from the crowded Nile Valley and are still a source of speculation and questions. In short, Egypt has suffered less than other countries in the region from the violence and international terrorism currently shaking the world. The content and significance of the revision A discussion of the revision requires defining it from the theoretical standpoint and in terms of its practical content. The reconsideration undertaken by the Gama  a al-Islamiya and now being completed by the Jihad is twofold: it is both a rereading of the ideas propagated by the two groups in the past and a rereading of that past itself. This rereading involved two interrelated, parallel processes whose product is what we have termed ‘the revision’. It is a profound, far-reaching critique of past ideas and practices, accompanied by the formulation of a new system of thought and ideology for each group that will determine present and future action. It is this multilevel, complex process of revision undertaken by the two largest organizations in the history of religious violence in Egypt that makes the process so significant for the organizations and all of Egyptian society and has changed the current Egyptian reality. In terms of the content of the revision, in both cases, the leadership and members of the two groups have taken their preliminary decision in 1997 to stop the violence and made it an intellectual position based on Islamic theory and jurisprudence, thus turning what could have been a tactical decision into a practical, theoretical model. In so doing, both the Gama  a al-Islamiya and the Jihad moved across the Islamist spectrum, leaving the camp of local jihadi religious groups to become moderate, peaceful sociopolitical movements that find no fault with the faith of Muslim individuals and societies and do not condone any sort of violence against them. Rather, the groups’ priority is now to reorganize worldly affairs in accordance with the principles of Islamic law, applied solely through peaceful means. This is a transition from the field of extremist, narrow political Islam – a very limited field in both Islamic history and the current Islamic reality – to the field of moderate centre groups that represent the heart of Islamic history and the current reality.24 Context of the revision: causes and motives The context in which the Gama  a al-Islamiya launched its process of revision is somewhat different from that in which the Jihad began, but there are

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several common elements. When the Gama  a al-Islamiya declared an end to the violence in 1997, it was the fifth consecutive year of religious violence in Egypt, particularly in Upper Egypt, where thousands of people were killed and injured, among them security forces, members of the Gama  a itself, and innocent, unarmed citizens and tourists. Regionally, in early 1996, the situation in Israel and the Palestinian territories was heating up, largely due to two factors: the rise of parties on the right in Israel, primarily the Likud, under the leadership of Benjamin Netanyahu, and the engagement of the Palestinian Islamic Resistance (Hamas) and other Palestinian factions in operations against Israeli targets, most prominently suicide attacks that left dozens of Israelis dead or injured. In this context, three primary considerations spurred the Gama  a alIslamiya to declare its ceasefire initiative and begin the process of revision. The first is largely regional. Like other local jihadi groups, since its inception the Gama  a al-Islamiya had believed that the main enemy was the Egyptian state, taking the axiom that the near enemy is more worthy of fighting than the distant enemy, although the group’s literature continued to talk about the Hebrew state as the distant enemy. The Gama  a’s theoretical and operational priorities were the product of its literal reading of Qur
anic and prophetic texts, which gave precedence to doctrinal correctness above all other issues, primarily the establishment of what it believed to be an Islamic state in Egypt. But developments in the Israeli–Arab conflict later had a decisive impact on the Gama  a al-Islamiya. The international Sharm al-Sheikh peace conference was held in March 1996, and its organizers and attendees proclaimed that it had been convened to preserve the peace process from the danger of terrorism, which was immediately qualified as ‘Islamic’ by several international and regional parties in a direct reference to operations staged by Hamas and similar organizations like the Palestinian Jihad and the Lebanese Hezbollah. Soon after, in May of the same year, Benjamin Netanyahu was elected prime minister and launched a broad campaign of repression against the Palestinian people in the following months. As a result, the Egyptian Gama  a al-Islamiya began to reconsider its operational priorities in light of current events, opening the door to a later reconsideration of its juridical and legal priorities. Without a doubt, the model of Palestinian and Lebanese Islamist resistance organizations that focused on fighting the occupation and garnered broad popularity in the Arab and Islamic worlds as a result was an additional factor prompting the Gama  a al-Islamiya to reconsider its operational and theoretical priorities. Although the group’s documents and actions in this period clearly show the impact of these important changes, the Gama  a did not immediately adopt the practical direction of these groups, but instead began to give priority to the distant enemy in theory while ignoring the near enemy. Later the concept of the distant enemy was completely elided from the group’s literature as well, as it abandoned the thought of jihadi religious groups. The second major factor in the Gama  a’s transformation was the relative

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success of the government’s security policy, which led the group to admit what its leaders at the time called ‘military defeat’. Despite the many criticisms of this security policy, particularly before the Luxor massacre in November 1997, and its excesses and human rights abuses, it managed to inflict grave human losses on the Gama  a al-Islamiya; between arrests, deaths in armed clashes, stiff sentences that included dozens of executions, and severe treatment in prisons and detention facilities, the ranks of the leadership and general membership were decimated. The severe security strategy shook the ranks and cohesion of the Gama  a, prompting a reconsideration of its acts and concepts. The Egyptian security establishment also changed its strategy vis-à-vis the Gama  a al-Islamiya after its initiative to end the violence, when several officials were convinced by its sincerity and the group’s desire to conduct a thoroughgoing review of its thought and stances. As a result, the security establishment facilitated meetings between the group’s leaders and members in Egyptian prisons, contributing to the success of the revision process. The third primary factor surrounding the transformation came from within the Gama  a al-Islamiya itself and springs from the experience that the group’s leaders and founders acquired during the time spent in Egyptian prisons from 1981 until the end of the violence in 1997. This period saw Gama  a members and leaders mature from zealous youth to a more tempered middle age. Their long period of forced isolation also allowed the leadership time to acquaint themselves with other schools of Islamic thought, particularly historical Islam, something that their activities prior to prison had not allowed. The impact of their new, wider reading is evident in the sources on which the leadership relied to compose the revisionist works they produced – sources that perhaps the group was not familiar with when they penned their works on the jurisprudence of jihad and violence in the early 1980s. The context of the Jihad’s revisionism is somewhat different. As noted above, the Jihad was only created as a unified entity in late 1980 and early 1981, after which it allied itself with the Gama  a al-Islamiya around the idea that the near enemy is more worthy of fighting than the distant enemy. In practical terms, this meant that the two groups found in the Egyptian government the near enemy and the sole target of their violence in their attempts to overthrow the regime, take power, establish an Islamic state and re-Islamicize all of Egyptian society. This operational and theoretical perspective was severely shaken with the Gama  a al-Islamiya’s decision to stop the violence, particularly after many Jihad members and leaders who were in prison joined the Gama  a initiative only a few days after it was declared on 5 July 1997. From that time until the Gama  a al-Islamiya’s Consultative Council decided on 24 March 1999 to put a total, final end to all acts of violence, more Jihad members joined the initiative, particularly those in Egypt and Europe. Nevertheless, since its inception in the 1970s, the Gama  a al-Islamiya had possessed a cohesive organizational framework, a united leadership and a clear degree of internal loyalty and stability, which enabled

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the group’s leadership to issue and implement its decision to end the violence. In contrast, although the overwhelming majority of Jihad members and leaders in Egypt and exiles in Europe adopted the Gama  a initiative and renounced violence, no decree was issued by any centralized leadership authority within the Jihad because the organization did not possess a real, effective central authority. As a result, the Egyptian state made no allowances for the Jihad as it had done for the Gama  a al-Islamiya and continued to treat the organization’s members with a greater degree of security sensitivity than the Gama  a al-Islamiya. As for the factors influencing the Jihad’s process of revision, the Gama  a al-Islamiya’s successful transition – including the theoretical works the group issued, its practical measures to renounce violence, and the state’s release of the organization’s leaders and members – certainly provided a strong impetus for the Jihad to seriously engage in its own reconsideration. The three factors noted above for the Gama  a al-Islamiya also provided a similar push to the Jihad. The Jihad’s historical lack of a united central leadership that could lead the process of revision was overcome when the group’s major ideologues stepped in to lead the process, at the forefront the Jihad’s former commander and the most important jihadi ideologue, Dr Sayyid Imam al-Sharif, also known as  Abd al-Qadir Ibn  Abd al-  Aziz or Dr Fadl.25 In addition to these figures, other important historical leaders stepped in as well, among them Nabil Na  im, the current commander of the Jihad, and  Abd al-  Aziz Musa al-Gamal, who for a long time occupied major military and press positions within al-Qaeda and the Taliban in Afghanistan, in addition to dozens of others. The Jihad’s process of revision was also encouraged by leaders with great historic and symbolic significance, including both  Abbud al-Zumur and his cousin, Tariq al-Zumur, well-known historical leaders of the Jihad. In the end, the plurality of small jihadi groups and cells that had formed the united Jihad organization, in addition to several historical disagreements within the Jihad leadership, particularly that between Dr Fadl and Ayman al-Zawahiri in 1994,26 played a role that cannot be ignored in the inception and development of the revision currently underway within the Jihad. In addition to the particular contexts and motives of the revisionist processes of the Gama  a al-Islamiya and the Jihad, there is a much more general, broader mechanism at play as well. An overall review of the 14 centuries of Islam’s history reveals that most of this history has belonged to centrist, sociopolitical movements. It is these movements that shaped this long history, filled with both achievements and failures. These political movements and other important popular, broader movements in the Arab and Islamic worlds, such as Sufism, certain Salafi movements, and official and social religious institutions, shaped what we might call today ‘historical Islam’, turning Qur
anic and prophetic texts into a lived reality whose final product is the civilizational accretion known as Islam, an entity which influenced other cultures and civilizations with which it had contact and was in turn influenced by them in many respects. With its regulated openness to various times and

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places, historical Islam was able to spread throughout the world and become the second largest revealed religion in the world today. The fourteen centuries of historical, lived Islam have shown that there is not a great deal of space for the long-term perpetuation of other types of movements, particularly those of a literal textual nature that are closed to other times and places. This mechanism becomes quite apparent when examining the development of Islamic movements throughout Islam’s long history. In periods or contexts characterized by crisis, violent, extremist movements may appear to push a literal, rather than historical, interpretation of Islam to the top of its list of priorities; these movements cling to this thought until they are spent and the crisis begins to retreat. Some of the movements disappear altogether while others make the transformation into sociopolitical movements that adopt the idea of historical Islam and are inscribed into Islam’s ongoing history. Throughout Islam’s history, extremist movements based on literal textual interpretations of Islam have lived six or seven decades at the most.27 Meanwhile, sociopolitical movements and other, broader movements and institutions have survived and represent the core of this history. This perspective gives us a more sophisticated understanding of the revisionist process of the Gama  a al-Islamiya and the Jihad as they transition from an extremist, violent brand of textual Islam to the much broader centrist camp of historical Islam. The new theoretical foundation From January 2002 through late 2007, the Gama  a al-Islamiya issued 27 books and pamphlets elaborating their new system of thought. The Revised Concepts series was inaugurated with four texts composed and/or reviewed by all members of the organization’s Consultative Council: Karam Zuhdi, Najih Ibrahim, Usama Hafiz,  Isam  Abd al-Majid,  Isam al-Din Dirbala,  Ali alSharif, Fu
ad al-Dawalibi and Hamdi  Abd al-Rahman. The four books, in order of appearance, are: Mubadarat waqf al- unf: ru
ya waqi iya wa nazra shar iya (An Initiative to Stop the Violence: a Pragmatic Perspective and a Legal Study), Hirmat al-ghulw fi-l-din wa takfir al-muslimin (The Unlawfulness of Excess in Religion and Declaring Muslims Unbelievers), Taslit al-adwa
ala ma waqa
fi-l-jihad min akhta
(Shining the Spotlight on the Mistakes Made in the Jihad), and al-Nash wa-l-tabyin fi tashih mafahim al-muhtasibin (Advice and Discernment in Correcting the Concepts of the Muhtasibin). As is clear from the titles, the texts address manifold legal and practical issues, although as a whole they cohere into a single vision that differs radically from that which the Gama  a al-Islamiya previously upheld and which was elaborated by the same eight authors of the Revised Concept series. The four texts make it clear that the Gama  a has come to rely on a jurisprudence of utility versus injury rather than the jurisprudence of jihad, which was prevalent prior to the non-violence initiative. The jurisprudence of utility versus injury is based on a measured consideration of the general welfare of Muslims against the evils

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that may result from a particular stance or mode of conduct. In this jurisprudence, avoiding injury always takes precedence over ensuring the general welfare. This tenet is the general rule utilized to address all the issues contained in the four texts, whether they are issues of past events or a potential future. In these texts, the leadership of the Gama  a abandons the jurisprudence of jihad, which gave precedence to jihad and combat and considered jihad not a means, but an end in itself. In turn, this led the Gama  a to practise the violence that characterized most of their activities from the late 1970s to July 1997. Using the jurisprudence of utility versus injury, the Gama  a al-Islamiya reconsidered its past violent practices, concluding that they did not achieve the desired benefit but only increased the injury to the organization, individual Muslims and Islamic states and societies. Through a brave critique of past practices, the leadership of the Gama  a al-Islamiya elaborated ten reasons that prohibit a use of combat and violence when dealing with Muslims, as individuals or a society, and prove the error of their previous acts of violence. The Gama  a devoted two of the four texts to this self-critique – Taslit al-adwa
ala ma waqa
fi al-jihad min akhta
and al-Nash wa-l-tabyin fi tashih mafahim al-muhtasibin – and much of Mubadarat waqf al- unf: ru
ya waqi iya wa nazra shar iya as well. In addition, the organization addressed other prominent issues, such as the permissibility of changing evil by deed when performing the hisba, something members of the Gama  a were well known for throughout the preceding 25 years. Indeed, al-Nash wa-l-tabyin fi tashih mafahim al-muhtasibin is given over entirely to the question of the hisba, or enjoining the good and forbidding the evil, and the book ultimately forbids the use of either verbal or physical violence or force to draw other Muslims’ attention to the sins or evils they may be committing.28 The four primary texts and the other analytical works that followed are filled with topics great and small and deserve further consideration and analysis and comparisons with the Gama  a al-Islamiya’s previous system of thought. The main conclusion to be drawn, however, from any objective consideration of the works is that we are indeed in the face of a profound change not only in the organization’s strategy or operational ideas, but in the nature of the organization itself. It is no longer a religious jihadi movement, but has taken the first steps on the road to becoming a sociopolitical organization like many other Islamist groups, differing only in the particularities of the platform it adopts.29 Turning to the Jihad, the publication of the document, ‘Rationalizing Jihadist Action in Egypt and the World’, by Sayyid Imam al-Sharif, marked the true beginning of the process of ideological revisionism currently under way.30 The document has received the approval of the overwhelming majority of Jihad leaders and members and was penned by the former commander of the Jihad and the pre-eminent ideologue of international jihad since the late 1980s. Two previous texts by al-Sharif, al- Umda fi i dad al- idda (The Faithful Guide for Preparation) and al-Jami  fi talab al- ilm al-sharif (The Compendium

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in Pursuit of Noble Knowledge), laid the theoretical foundation for both the Egyptian Jihad and several other international jihadi groups. The new document, then, written by the same author, has the potential to have a broad impact in the ranks of these groups. In the 110-page document, al-Sharif revises and corrects many of the legal judgments on jihad found in his two previous books, as well as ‘the many legal violations’ that marred some Islamist groups’ engagement with jihad as they turned to ‘clashes with ruling authorities in their countries or with the great powers and their subjects in the name of jihad in God’s path in order to raise the status of Islam’, as he says at the outset of the document. The author then elaborates on the most serious of these violations, such as murder based on nationality, the colour of one’s skin or hair, or one’s religious beliefs, as well as the unlawful killing of both Muslims and non-Muslims, the destruction of property, and allowing the plunder of those who were, in fact, inviolable. In the introduction, the author explicitly states that such violations are ‘cause for disappointment in this world and shame and censure in the next’ since ‘nothing incurs the wrath and rancour of the Lord like the unjust shedding of blood and destruction of wealth’. Al-Sharif and the hundreds of Jihad members who signed the document declare their ‘dissatisfaction with these legal violations and the evils they entailed’. They define the primary purpose of the document as ‘reminding themselves and the general populace of Muslims of some of the legal regulations relevant to the jurisprudence of jihad’. They call on the mass of Muslims ‘and especially jihadi groups around the world to comply with these [regulations]’ so that ‘they, like those who came before, do not fall prey to legal violations, whether out of ignorance of religion or intentionally, for they have neither elevated religion nor preserved this world’. Obstacles in the path of revision More than ten years after Egyptian jihadi organizations renounced violence as an ideology and tactic, the degree of their success is apparent. The entire leadership of the Gama  a al-Islamiya and many thousands of its members have forsaken the religious jihadi ideology that lay at the heart of their thought and moved towards the idea of a sociopolitical movement that adopts a peaceful platform based largely on outreach, and this has prompted no splits or rebellions within the group. The majority of Jihad leaders and members in Egypt and Europe have followed the same path, although a small segment of the group outside of Egypt, led by Ayman al-Zawahiri, has continued to reject the revisionism and is involved in al-Qaeda, where al-Zawahiri occupies the number two position after Osama Bin Laden. The successful transition of the two groups is indicated by several factors, most prominently the fact that neither the Gama  a al-Islamiya nor the Jihad has been involved in any violent action since the 1997 cessation of hostilities, with the exception of the Luxor massacre on 17 November 1997 noted above. The Gama  a al-Islamiya has also issued a series of texts that contain a critique grounded in centrist,

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moderate Islam of the practices of jihadi groups around the world, among them al-Qaeda and the organizations in its orbit. ‘Rationalizing Jihadist Action in Egypt and the World’ was signed by hundreds of Jihad leaders and thousands of members in Egypt; in addition to containing a profound reconsideration of the thought and stances of the Jihad, it also issues a stinging critique of the practices of international jihadi groups such as al-Qaeda. In addition, the website of the Gama  a al-Islamiya, launched in January 2006, gives a clear expression of the depth and continuity of the Gama  a’s renunciation of violent thought and practices. The website elaborates the Gama  a’s views on dozens of contemporary issues in Egypt and abroad, all of them grounded in a framework of non-violent thought and practice.31 The revisionism launched ten years ago has faced several obstacles to success, first and foremost the doubts and suspicions expressed by several parties in the Egyptian state and society regarding the sincerity of the initiative. The Gama  a al-Islamiya’s long history of violence, starting in universities in Upper Egypt in the late 1970s, including the 1981 assassination of President al-Sadat and the bloody events that followed in Asyut, and ending with the waves of violence set in motion in 1992, made many suspicious about the Gama  a’s sincerity and its very ability to renounce these practices and the extremist thought justifying them. In addition, there were internal obstacles among the rank-and-file members of the Gama  a as the leadership tried to convince them of the necessity of revision. Thousands of Gama  a members had spent years of their short lives detained in prisons because of their convictions about the truth of the organization’s old ideology of violence. A long, honest period of dialogue and discussion was necessary to lead them to accept the new system of thought and revise past practices and ideas.32 This obstacle was overcome thanks to two primary factors. Firstly, the strong organizational structure of the Gama  a al-Islamiya gave the leadership broad authority over members and imbued the leadership with a high degree, indeed sometimes excessive amount, of esteem and respect from members. As a result, through sustained dialogue with detained members of the Gama  a, the leadership was able to elaborate the main points contained in its Revised Concepts series. Secondly, many Egyptian security officials were convinced of the sincerity of the Gama  a al-Islamiya’s transformation and the leadership’s real desire to effect profound change. As a result, they facilitated meetings between the leadership and Gama  a membership that ultimately fostered the success of the revisionist process. The suspicions of many were gradually overcome, especially when it was noted that members of the Gama  a were not involved in acts of violence in the few years between the ceasefire declaration and the issuance of the first texts in the Revised Concepts series. Successive segments of the Egyptian political, media and cultural elite became convinced of the sincerity of the revisionism, supporting it in various ways, particularly in the media and through academic research, which ultimately also provided an impetus for success.

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It is remarkable that the Gama  a al-Islamiya managed to unite all levels and ranks of the organization behind the absolute renunciation of violence and the revisionist thought, with the exception of a few individuals outside of Egypt who have lived for long periods in Afghanistan and Pakistan and are members of al-Qaeda or close to the organization. If the leadership of the Gama  a – responsible for more than 95 per cent of the acts of violence seen in Egypt in the 1980s and 90s – was able to build this consensus within a large group containing several thousand members, it can be chalked up not only to good leadership skills, but to a more general sense within the organization that violent, extremist thought and practices required re-evaluation. Indeed, it seems that the initial end to the violence in 1997 and what followed were spurred by the leadership’s understanding of this common sentiment, despite the persistence of questions and objections regarding certain details. The Gama  a al-Islamiya’s leadership and membership have approved the principle of revision and the abandonment of violence, regardless of their personal circumstances and experiences and their current place of residence, whether in Egypt or abroad, behind prison walls or free. Since the non-violence initiative was declared in 1997 and later adopted formally in a unanimous vote by the group’s Consultative Council in March 1999, no dissenting voice has been heard rejecting the initiative, although a few figures have laid claim to compensation from the Egyptian government, specifically the release of the remaining Gama  a detainees and the reinstatement of their mosques. The acceptance of the non-violence initiative by Gama  a members and leaders around the world opened the door to the next phase of the revisionist process: the elaboration of the juridical and theoretical basis of the Gama  a’s new turn. During this phase, certain internal differences did come to the surface regarding particular texts and interpretations and justifications for the renunciation of violence, but these objections never extended to questions about the underlying principle of the revisionism, namely the renunciation of violent, extremist thought and practices. The differences centred on details and certain aspects of a particular study in the Revised Concepts series, but never questioned the methodology of revision itself, which remained a point of consensus in the Gama  a al-Islamiya. In addition, the objections were voiced largely by Gama  a leaders outside of Egypt who had approved the initiative, but still had observations or objections regarding the elaboration of the revisionist ideology. It is noteworthy that the organization’s leadership dealt with these dissenters by initiating a dialogue with them – at times public – and continued to consider them sincere members who supported the new centrist line rather than rejectionists who had left the fold.33 Compared with the Gama  a al-Islamiya, the Jihad in Egypt may face even fewer obstacles, although there are some different considerations. The fact that the Gama  a al-Islamiya has committed no act of violence over the last ten years has gone a long way in mollifying the deep-seated fears and suspicions of Egyptians towards the revisionist enterprise, which in turn will provide a more encouraging environment for the Jihad’s transformation. In

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addition, the Gama  a al-Islamiya’s management of the dialogue between leaders and members on the principle of revision now constitutes a stable legacy on which the Jihad can draw, despite the two groups’ different organizational infrastructure and historical experience. The Gama  a al-Islamiya’s successful transition has also given the Egyptian security apparatus certain experiences that are likely to further the Jihad’s revisionism. It now has experience in facilitating internal discussions between Gama  a members, and this time it starts out from a point of greater trust in the sincerity of the initiative and its chances for success – circumstances quite different from those that characterized the Gama  a al-Islamiya’s initial steps towards its re-evaluation. The major obstacles facing the Jihad are twofold. Firstly, there is the historical and organizational nature of the movement. The Jihad has always been characterized by schisms and sensitivities between the various smaller groups that comprise it, although most leaders and members have deferred to the leadership of historical figures such as Sayyid Imam al-Sharif and  Abbud al-Zumur. In the end, however, the nature of the Jihad will make it more difficult to manage the process of revision within the ranks with the same efficiency and discipline, even though the Gama  a al-Islamiya is a much larger organization, and as a result, the entire process may take more time. Secondly, more former members of the Jihad – prominently its former commander, Ayman al-Zawahiri – are involved in international jihadi movements, first and foremost al-Qaeda, where they occupy major responsibilities. These figures, including al-Zawahiri himself, have greeted the Jihad’s revisionism and the document, ‘Rationalizing Jihadist Action in Egypt and the World’, with a broad offensive impugning its motivations,34 which may slow the Jihad’s impetus towards completing the process. At the same time, it may also stoke the fears of the security establishment, making it more wary of dealing with the Jihad and releasing Jihad members from Egyptian prisons, and this may in turn dampen the enthusiasm of some for the elaboration of a thoroughgoing revision. Instead, they may simply stop with their initial declaration renouncing the principle of violence.

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Part II

Programmes

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8

Exit from right-wing extremist groups Lessons from disengagement programmes in Norway, Sweden and Germany Tore Bjørgo, Jaap van Donselaar and Sara Grunenberg

In many European countries during the 1990s, there was a surge in xenophobic violence and a rapid increase in young people joining racist and right-wing extremist groups and organizations.1 The violence ranged from street fights and assaults on political opponents, immigrants and other minorities to terrorist-type attacks like arson, bombings, murders and plans or even attempts to assassinate public figures or representatives of the so-called ‘Zionist Occupation Government’. Only a minority of participants in the ‘White Power’ movement took part in these terrorist activities but participation in other forms of violence was common, and in some groups, even expected. Although much was done to prevent this form of radicalization and recruitment into violence and violent groups on the extreme right, there was for a long time little attention paid to those youths who had already joined and become part of such groups, as if they were beyond relief. However, research2 showed that many of those young people who had participated in these groups found it highly difficult to disengage, partly because they feared reprisals from former friends and enemies, and partly because they had become stigmatized and faced difficulties in getting accepted elsewhere (see Cronin, chapter 3 in this volume). Child welfare agencies and youth workers sometimes declined to engage themselves with teenagers asking for help to get out because these professionals were afraid to get involved with neo-Nazis.3 Youth workers tended to respond with fear and uncertainty when facing these youths, and therapists sometimes interpreted their fear of reprisal from enemies as paranoia. However, some academic researchers, police officers, youth workers, parents of youths in such movements and – not least – several involved youths claimed that there was an urgent need to develop specific programmes to facilitate disengagement from these racist and extremist youth scenes.4 This chapter will describe and discuss disengagement programmes targeting neo-Nazis and violence-oriented right-wing extremists in Norway, Sweden and Germany.5

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The Exit project in Norway The Norwegian Exit project was initiated by preventive police officers and one of the authors of this chapter, Tore Bjørgo, in close collaboration with a group of concerned parents and youths who had been members of militant racist groups. Exit was formally established in mid-1997, funded as a threeyear development project by several ministries and hosted by the NGO ‘Adults for Children’.6 The Exit project had three main objectives: • • •

aiding and supporting young people who want to disengage from racist or other violent groups; supporting parents with children in racist or violent groups, establishing local networks for parents; developing and disseminating knowledge and methods to professions working with youths associated with violent groups.

However, due to limited funding and guidelines from the funding ministries, the Norwegian Exit project decided to work primarily through local agencies (municipalities and the police in particular) by providing them with relevant know-how and methods, rather than building a separate Exit agency to take care of these youths on an individual basis. Thus, it was the local youth workers, child welfare officers, teachers and police officers who worked directly with the youths. The role of the Exit project was primarily to develop methods and strategies, and train practitioners in these.7 By the time the Exit project had finished its allotted three-year period, it had trained more than 700 practitioners from various agencies and professions in prevention and intervention in relation to racist and violent youth groups. Some municipalities and agencies continued their work to facilitate disengagement from racist youth groups in close collaboration with the Exit project, others on their own.8 In some cases, NGO/Exit representatives were included as full members of municipal interagency working groups, a model which was made possible by a long-established practice of close collaboration between governmental agencies and NGOs in Norway. Parental network groups proved to be a highly effective method for concerned parents in order to get their teenagers out of extremist groups. Concerned parents with young teenage children in racist or other violent groups profited greatly from collaborating with other parents in a similar situation. These parents have a strong need for knowledge and information on what is going on in these groups. By sharing information between them, parents could together build a better understanding about what was happening in the milieu in which their children were involved. Sometimes knowledgeable outsiders, such as police officers, researchers or ex-members, were brought in. In such a forum, parents could discuss their dilemmas in connection with the strictness of the restrictions they should put on their children and their behaviour, and how to ensure that their sanctions would not result in pushing

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their children away from them. Parents could also reach agreements on common positions regarding what their children were allowed to take part in, or what should (or should not) be accepted in terms of (Nazi-style) dress code. The network group could thereby strengthen the parents’ monitoring, control and ability to provide care for their children.9 Having children in neo-Nazi groups can be socially stigmatizing for the entire family. Most of these parents felt a strong need to talk with someone about their problems but would not dare bring it up in their regular circles. A closed forum with others in a similar situation offered such an opportunity. Parents who succeeded in getting their children out of the racist scene provided inspiration to others. Parental networks also played an important role in disseminating information to parents regarding upcoming events. The network might for instance be informed by the police that a White Power concert or a large confrontation between rival groups was coming up. This enabled parents to keep their children at home during the event, preventing them from becoming victims or perpetrators of violence, or getting arrested. Although parental network groups were not suitable to all relevant parents, results were quite positive.10 About 130 parents representing 100 youths/children had participated in such parental network groups in Norway between 1995 and mid-2000. By the end of that period, only about ten of these youths were still involved with the racist scene. Obviously not all of the other 90 quit the scene because of the parental groups – many left for other reasons – but it is clear that these parental activities made a decisive impact in many cases.11 In 2003, the Norwegian Police Security Service (PST) in collaboration with the ordinary police (and to some extent also Exit and the NGO hosting it) started a project on ‘preventive conversations’ with young people who had become involved with violent right-wing organizations, in particular the racist organization Vigrid.12 With younger members, their parents were also approached together with their children. The purpose was to inform the youths (and their parents) of the possible negative consequences of their involvement, and motivate them to break with the extremist group. According to the Police Security Service, 44 of the 95 youths approached claimed that they wanted to break with the group as a result of the conversation; another 11 had already disengaged when they were approached by the police. Twelve claimed that they would consider it, whereas 17 stated that they wanted to continue their involvement with the extremist group. However, the project has never been properly evaluated.13 The strongest aspect of the Norwegian approach was probably that Exit activities became integrated into the normal activities of established public agencies, such as municipalities and the police. The close collaboration between these public agencies and NGOs is also an important element in this model. These municipal and police projects continued (and quite effectively so) long after the Exit project as such was closed down due to lack of further funding. However, this model made Exit less a contact point for people who

138 Leaving Terrorism Behind wanted to disengage and more a tool in the toolbox for the police and municipalities.

Exit in Sweden Inspired by the original Norwegian Exit project, Exit in Sweden was established in mid-1998.14 The goals were similar but they were implemented differently. To a greater extent than the Norwegian model had, the Swedish Exit organization (and its regional branches, which in some cases subsequently became independent) worked directly with the individuals who contacted Exit on their own initiative. This was closely contingent on the fact that the first head of Exit in Sweden and most staff members thereafter were themselves former participants in the neo-Nazi or the ‘White Power’ movement. This gave them significant credibility and insights, making it easier to establish contact with individuals considering disengaging from the Nazi movement.15 From its beginning, Exit Sweden has been organized as one of many activities under the umbrella of the foundation Fryshuset, headed by the YMCA, and located in a former fridge house in Stockholm.16 Beginning in 1998 with one former neo-Nazi who had quit the Nazi and criminal scene several years earlier and got himself a university education, a rapidly growing activity was built up, with a growing number of ex-activists in core functions. Although this gave Exit Sweden considerable credibility with the target group, the lack of competence in handling organizational and economic issues also caused severe problems during the first years of activity. There were also conflicts between Exit Sweden in Stockholm and a local offshoot, Exit Motala, which subsequently broke off in 2002 due to clashes of personality as well as charges of economic mismanagement in the central organization.17 At present, a reorganized Exit Sweden is the only remaining Exit organization in Sweden, coordinating several local nodes. The core activity of Exit Sweden is to provide direct support to individuals who want to leave or have already left the White Power scene (which is considerably larger in Sweden than in Norway). Most of them make contact with the Exit organization on their own initiative; others are passed on through intermediaries like youth workers, police officers, teachers or parents. The individual is then given a contact person, usually someone with personal experience as a former participant in the White Power scene. However, the Exit organization also works closely with psychiatrists, therapists, social workers, teachers and police who are well informed about the White Power scene and the special difficulties facing these individuals. Most of the defectors have complex problems related to alcohol abuse, involvement in crime and violence, and threats of reprisals from former friends and foes. Due to their personal security, some are in need of a safe house for a while until things have calmed down. A recurring problem for most of these young people is that they disengage from a highly intensive social network and

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activity into complete loneliness, boredom and a social vacuum. Typically, during their time in the neo-Nazi scene, they have lost contact with family and ‘non-political’ friends. Repairing family ties and re-establishing a network of friends may be challenging due to lack of trust and scepticism. After years on the margins of society, many need to learn new social skills and how to relate to and trust others. Thus, organizing joint activities with other ex-Nazis as well as with other youths is an important task for Exit Sweden. In an evaluation report from 2001 by the Swedish Council for Crime Prevention (BRÅ),18 among 133 people who had been given assistance by Exit until then, 125 had left the White Power movement, which also meant, according to their own reports, that they had ceased to commit criminal offences or to abuse drugs or alcohol. Among the remaining eight, four had returned to the White Power Scene, one joined an outlaw MC gang, and two became drug addicts (one is not accounted for). By spring 2008, after ten years of operation, about 600 people had allegedly turned to Exit Sweden for help to disengage. Only two of these are at present known to the programme as having returned to the movement. In 2005, 40 new client relations were established and 30 were in process or aftercare; in 2006 there were 51 new clients and 26 in process or aftercare; in 2007, 26 new clients and 46 in process or aftercare.19 However, because of the NGO’s lack of capacity as well as privacy regulations, former clients are not kept track of in a systematic way when their contact with Exit ends (typically after 6 to 12 months), so it is hardly possible to control these figures or the claimed low rate of recidivism into extremism or crime. In addition to these client-oriented activities, Exit Sweden also offers various types of outreach activities, such as lecturing at schools and to parental groups. Such events are often opportunities for establishing contact with youths involved with the White Power scene. Exit Sweden also regularly teaches in education programmes for police officers, prison personnel, teachers and social workers. Exit Sweden has developed a five-stage programme that describes the process a person will typically go through when leaving the movement and re-establishing themselves into mainstream society and what Exit can contribute to help them through this process:20 The Phase of Motivation. The young person is still part of the White Power scene, but has started to have second thoughts about it, and questions his/her involvement. At this point they contact Exit and probe the possibilities for disengagement and assistance. Exit answers questions, provides information, and offers a contact person ‘who has been where you are and knows how it is’. The Phase of Disengagement. The person has made the decision to leave the White Power scene. Some have already quit when they contact Exit; others

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need practical help and advice to do so. Exposed to threats from former friends, and left without a social network, this is a chaotic period. They need someone to talk to, and help from Exit (and sometimes the police) to assess the threat situation in a realistic way. In some cases they have to move to a different community, and may be in need of financial assistance and social services. The contact person from Exit is available by phone around the clock, and may serve as a guide and liaison to social agencies, the police or other resources. The personal support from the contact person, providing an opportunity to speak out on doubts, fears, problems and thoughts about the future is of great importance at this stage. The Phase of Establishment. The break is now completed. The young person has secured a place to live and subsistence (usually with parents or through assistance from social services). Some have a job, others study or get job training, and some have still not found anything to do. But they have cut their ties to the White Power scene, as well as to their former friends there. They are usually in a social vacuum, with a very limited social network, and often feel empty and alone. At this stage the contact person tries to provide new links to ‘normal’ life, and help to expand their social networks. Exit organizes some joint activities for people who have disengaged from the White Power scene, bringing them together with other youths from different and more mainstream backgrounds. Group discussions are useful at this stage. The Phase of Reflection. At this stage the person starts to realize what they have been involved with during their time in the Nazi movement, such as violence, crimes, extreme ideologies of hatred, and recruitment of others into similar activities. Some experience problems with anxiety, depression, insomnia or alcohol. Some also need professional help to deal with their violent impulses, traumas or their lack of confidence. The Exit staff may refer to a therapist for consultations. Many ex-activists need to reflect on why they got involved with the scene, where the hatred came from, and how to go on with a normal life. Most of the racist thoughts and impulses have disappeared during this process. Some leave their racist views behind when they break with the group; others need more time to change their world-view. The Phase of Stabilization. At this stage, the young person has got a ‘normal’ life with job, studies, and sometimes a family of their own. They have turned away from hatred, racism, crime and alcohol abuse. However, they still fear that their past will ruin their future, and they feel guilt and shame for what they have been involved with. Exit no longer works actively with people in this phase but many of them still keep in touch with their contact person. Exit’s period of active involvement usually lasts between six and twelve months. The most notable characteristic of the Swedish disengagement programme compared to similar programmes is the prominent role of former participants

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in the White Power scene. The German Exit programme, which was inspired by the Swedish model (see below), makes use of ex-activists as well, but not in such leading roles. The strength of the Swedish model is obviously that these ex-activists know from first-hand experience what kind of assistance is needed, and can make use of this experience and credibility to establish contact and trust with as well as to follow up the clients. The weakness has been their lack of administrative and professional expertise, and that some of them were too fresh out of the extremist scene. Gradually, however, these weaknesses were compensated by bringing in professional experts with qualifications as psychotherapists and social workers into the organization. In addition, personnel with a past in the extremist scene are also increasingly acquiring formal educations in such fields as therapy and management.

Disengagement programmes in Germany21 In Germany, there is a wide range of extreme right-wing parties, organizations and people. Germany has been struggling with more extensive sub-cultures of organized extreme right-wing groups of young people, and for a longer time than most other European countries. Many young people from Eastern Germany in particular are associated with skinhead groups and neo-Nazi Kameradschaften.22 Since the Berlin Wall came down, the number of extreme right-wing young people has skyrocketed. The Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution (Bundesamt für Verfassungsschutz) reported that there were about 39,000 right-wing extremists in Germany in 2006.23 At least 28 extreme right-wing offences are committed each day, two to three of them involving violence.24 Germany also has an entire spectrum of programmes for fighting and preventing right-wing extremism, including a number of different disengagement or deradicalization programmes that were started around the year 2000. These are designed for members of extreme right-wing groups and offer them support in their efforts to abandon such groups. During the last few years, fifteen to twenty projects in Germany have emerged that are devoted to the disengagement of right-wing extremists. These are run by the federal or state security service (Bundes-/Landesverfassungsschutz), by the state level police (Landeskriminalamt), or by various ministries (Ministry of the Interior or of Social Affairs and Youth). There are also several parental network programmes.25 Although the programmes in Germany have undergone enormous growth and more and more new programmes have been added in recent years, no published evaluations have emerged. For this reason we have assessed these disengagement programmes on information provided by the programmes on their own activities and results, with an eye to possible implementation elsewhere.26 The following specific questions were asked: • • •

Who are the dropouts27 and what is their background? How does a ‘disengagement process’ work? What authorities are responsible for the programme?

142 • • •

Leaving Terrorism Behind How many people have withdrawn through the programme? What are examples of good practice and bad practice in disengagement programmes? What should we look out for when implementing such a programme elsewhere?

Our study began with an examination of the literature on German disengagement programmes. This did not provide us with very much material, however, because many programmes choose to practise a certain reticence in their responses: there was little information available, and what was available revealed a rather rosy picture. Gradually it became clear that our questions would not be answered on the basis of the literature. So we posed our questions directly to key persons in the disengagement programmes. In April and May 2006 we visited various programmes, and while we were there, we conducted extensive interviews. Because this approach was labour-intensive we had to be selective in choosing the programmes we wanted to evaluate. We based our choice on the diversity of the various programmes. Despite their basic commonality, there are many differences among the various German disengagement programmes. Target groups can differ (key persons, experienced activists, hangers-on or sympathizers), methodologies vary, and the organizational designs can be dissimilar (NGO vs GO). Some projects are planned at federal level whereas other projects are at the state level. For this reason we chose four very different programmes: the nationwide operating NGO programme EXIT-Deutschland, the federal government programme and two government programmes at state level (Hesse and North RhineWestphalia). Table 8.1 shows the diversity of these programmes in diagram form. Each programme will be discussed below separately. EXIT-Deutschland 28 This NGO project was the first disengagement programme in Germany. It was set up by Bernd Wagner and the ex-neo-Nazi Ingo Hasselbach and was Table 8.1 Diversity of investigated disengagement programmes in Germany Target group

Exit Germany Government programme Hesse North RhineWestphalia

Top

Activist

X

X X X X

Hangers-on

Organization

Level

NGO

GO

Federal

X

X X

X

X

X X

State

X X

Norway, Sweden and Germany 143 launched in 2000, inspired by Exit in Sweden.29 The ‘average’ dropout in the EXIT-Deutschland programme is male, between eighteen and twenty-five years of age and spent two to six years as a member of a skinhead group, Kameradschaft or national socialist Party. There is a higher proportion of dropouts in western Germany and in the regional areas. The vast majority of the dropouts have a criminal record. Most disengage because they realize their extreme right-wing activities will lead to a vicious circle with negative consequences for their future. EXIT-Deutschland does not establish contact with potential dropouts. EXIT mainly tries to become known by appearing in the media. The dropout himself 30 must then take the initiative and make contact with the project. The first step in the exit process consists of sketching a general profile of the person. Bernd Wagner explains: ‘We have to know what world-view he has. Why does he want to leave the group? How determined is he? What are his goals?’ Then the potential problems must be identified. These are problems concerning the person’s degree of reflection: analysing his own situation, putting it into words and shaping a realistic view of the future. But his needs and fears should also be examined. Safety is an especially important subject in the exit process, a subject that requires a great deal of attention. Another important point is socio-economic security. Bernd Wagner continues: Does the dropout have a place where he can work without danger to his safety? Or does he receive government benefits? Does he have a place to live that satisfies the safety requirements? If so, does the benefits agency pay the rent for this dwelling? Building up a social network is also extremely important. Dropouts often have to find new friends outside the extreme right-wing group. Another important part of the exit process consists of psychological questions. There is a good chance that a dropout will have to deal with psychological problems during the disengagement process. The dropouts have lost their friends, they have lost their world-view and they have lost the positive self-image that was derived from the extreme right-wing ideology. Suddenly there’s a gap that has to be filled. Here the support of the programme is important. Yet dropouts must still come to terms with the extreme right-wing ideology they followed and the crimes they’ve committed. In this regard it is important that the perpetrators develop a feeling for their victims and for the impact their deeds had on the victims’ lives. They also have to learn to stop seeing the government as an enemy and ultimately to accept the values of democracy. The family may play an important role in the disengagement process. The duration of such an exit process varies considerably. Usually the dropouts receive guidance for between six months and three years. Yet in recent years EXIT-Deutschland claims to have pulled about 280 dropouts from the

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extreme-right scene. By the time of the interviews in mid-2006, it was guiding 50 people. In all that time the organization has failed in only eight cases. EXIT-Deutschland is not a government agency but an NGO, and unlike the government programmes it is not part of a network of several government agencies. So the project has no steady partners. For each individual case a search is conducted for suitable forms of cooperation. This has resulted in a loose network of acquaintances that collaborate with the initiative. By 2006, the project worked with four staff members who were paid from government subsidies. Additional staff were also called in for specific projects, if necessary. In general, we were told, the financial situation of EXITDeutschland was problematic: ‘The project simply has insufficient financial resources to provide all the dropouts with proper guidance.’ For example, paying travel expenses to visit a dropout in another state can constitute an insurmountable problem, which means sometimes potential dropouts cannot be admitted to the programme. Occasionally the danger zones in the dropout’s environment can only be identified by telephone contact, so there is hardly any personal guidance to speak of – at a remote distance at the very most. EXIT-Deutschland had to close down temporarily in winter 2007 due to lack of funding, but after about two months it was back in operation. By 2008, it was working in three fields: assistance to individuals wanting to disengage; family help and ‘community coaching’; and ex-Nazis campaigning against Nazism. Disengagement programme for right-wing extremists by the Bundesverfassungsschutz This Aussteigerprogramm für Rechtsextremisten vom Bundesamt für Verfassungsschutz (BfV)31 – the Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution, which is the federal security service in Germany – has two different branches. One branch works with leaders of extreme right-wing organizations who have become aware that their political goals are not attainable and that they need help in abandoning their group. The BfV approaches these persons actively and tells them about the possibility of withdrawing from the extreme-right scene with guidance. The second branch focuses on people who are not in the upper echelon of an extreme right-wing group. These persons must get in touch with the BfV themselves. Because the BfV does not issue information about the first task of their disengagement programme, we will only concentrate on the branch that focuses on ordinary right-wing extremists with plans to abandon the scene. The ‘typical’ BfV dropout is usually between twenty and twenty-five years of age. Ninety per cent of those contacting the programme are men. Most of them come from small towns or rural areas. Unlike EXIT-Deutschland, the BfV programme also has many clients from Eastern Germany. They often have to deal with alcoholism and psychological problems. A recent trend seems to be that more and more dropouts are addicted to drugs. In addition,

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the vast majority of them have been involved in violent crimes. The length of time they spend in the extreme-right scene depends to a great extent on the age of the client. Because of legal complications, minor-age dropouts are not admitted to the programme. The reasons for disengaging can be diverse. Many people want to quit because their partner expects them to. The threat of criminal proceedings also plays a role in the decision to leave. Just as in EXIT-Deutschland, many dropouts discover that participation in the extreme-right milieu can have negative consequences for the course of their lives. Sometimes people also report to the BfV because they left the right-wing extremist scene without the help of a programme and as a result they are threatened by their former comrades. To be admitted to the programme the dropouts are first interviewed in Cologne or Berlin. The interviews are held so the BfV staff can determine whether the persons are ‘serious’ or not, i.e. whether they really want to disengage. So the dropout must pay part of the travel expenses (25 per cent) himself. The dropout must also fill in a detailed questionnaire. This should be approached seriously as well, since the BfV checks the answers for accuracy. If the person appears to have lied he can be refused admission to the programme. In other words, only those who are prepared to make a clean sweep of things are allowed to participate. Criminal acts that come to light in this way must be adjudicated. So participating in the programme does not result in a reduced sentence. The authors believe that making a clean sweep of things can also involve blowing the whistle on one’s ‘old comrades’. After the dropout is admitted to the programme a profile of him is made. The focus here is on the person’s various problems and the urgency with which these problems must be tackled. According to the person we spoke with at the BfV, the conditions for successfully disengaging are: conquering addiction, attaining socio-economic security through education or work, and acquiring social connections outside the extreme-right group. The BfV follows a graduated approach. The specific goals that the dropout must meet are set down in fairly detailed contracts. Such a contract might say that the dropout must be rid of his addiction within three months. If the dropout fails to meet this deadline he can be excluded from the programme. If the dropout is in a permanent relationship, the partner is also brought into the programme and receives the same support. In addition to providing practical support (such as help in moving house or looking for a job), the BfV also conducts individual interviews with the partner. This approach works well because it is often the partner who is highly motivated to get the dropout out of the extreme-right group. According to the person we spoke to at the BfV, there is even evidence of a strong correlation between a good relationship and a successful disengagement process. The flip side, however, is that if their relationship founders many dropouts fall back into the extreme-right milieu. The BfV always looks at the individual to learn what kind of help the dropout needs. Many dropouts need help in moving house, finding a suitable

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place to work or being trained, alleviating their burden of debt, stabilizing their relationship with their parents and steady partner, creating a vision of the future and learning standard rules of behaviour. In addition, many dropouts have to undergo detoxification. The disengagement process is successful if the person achieves the goals laid down in the contract and is stable for the next two years. It usually takes around two years to achieve the goals. This means it takes a total of about four years before the person has completed the entire process. Compared with other programmes this is a rather long period of guidance. During the process the BfV works with the Landesämter für Verfassungsschutz – the regional intelligence service authorities. Depending on the individual case, various agencies are then approached and asked to cooperate. In the last five years, 230 potential dropouts have contacted the BfV. Of this total, 100 persons were not admitted to the programme after a first interview. Of the 130 persons who were admitted, 30 did not complete the process. Their failure mainly had to do with persistent alcoholism, repeated contact with the extreme-right milieu, the committing of crimes or the failure otherwise to fulfil the contract. Altogether 100 persons have left right-wing extremism through the programme or are still being guided by it. In terms of absolute numbers, the BfV has been guiding fewer dropouts than EXIT-Deutschland. We suspect this has to do with the BfV’s high threshold and the strict demands placed on the dropouts. It may also have to do with the image of the BfV as one of the ultimate enemies of right-wing extremism. Financially the BfV programme does not seem to have any problems. Unlike EXIT-Deutschland, they have sufficient resources to provide all dropouts with proper guidance. The North Rhine-Westphalian disengagement programme This disengagement programme has existed since July 2001. Responsibility for the programme is with the North Rhine-Westphalian Ministry of the Interior. In the beginning the programme only provided guidance to extremeright delinquents and right-wing extremists over the age of 27. At that time the programme had a telephone HelpLine that became known by means of a publicity campaign. This proved ineffective, however. Now the programme itself also makes contact with potential dropouts, and all adult dropouts can receive its guidance. Dropouts in the North Rhine-Westphalian programme are around 25 years old and mainly come from Kameradschaften and skinhead groups. Most participants are men. They are often addicted to alcohol and drugs, and almost all of them have a record of violent crimes. They want to leave the extremeright milieu, we were told, because they find themselves in a hopeless personal situation. Often the person’s parents or partner demands that they leave the right-wing extremist scene. Just as in the BfV programme, the threat of criminal proceedings also plays a role in the decision to withdraw.

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The North Rhine-Westphalian programme also works with contracts. These contracts are less detailed than those of the BfV and there is a preference for general rules of conduct. In North Rhine-Westphalia, openness about unadjudicated crimes is also expected. This information is treated confidentially; only serious crimes are reported. Because prisoners are not admitted to the programme, attempts are made from within the programme to avoid custodial sentences and to arrange for suspended sentences or community punishment orders. The process begins with cleaning the house. The guide confiscates all right-wing extremist attributes. In the most serious cases this can result in the person being left with very little clothing, losing his entire music collection and staring at blank walls. The programme demands that the dropout actually leaves the scene, stops committing criminal offences, adopts another world-view and distances himself wholeheartedly from all extremist values. A conscious effort is made to ‘build up a positive identity by experiencing success and creating alternative, new values’. In North Rhine-Westphalia there are also many dropouts who need help in moving house, finding a suitable place to work or to be trained, alleviating their burden of debt, building up a new circle of friends, joining organizations and conducting conversations with their parents and with judges or public prosecutors. Many dropouts also undergo detoxification and anti-aggression training. The removal of right-wing extremist tattoos also receives attention. We were told that the disengagement process is considered successful if the person involved has no more contact with the right-wing extremist scene, has committed no new punishable offences and is fairly stable. Ideally the dropout’s world-view also changes, but this is far from feasible in many cases. According to one programme guide, his practical work largely consists of motivating dropouts to meet their obligations. It is quite an achievement when that happens, since many dropouts have not led a well-regulated existence for many years. The police and the police intelligence service are regular partners in the programme. There is also support from municipalities and other bodies. Four people work in the programme, two of them as guides. With this staff the number of dropouts can be properly guided, but guiding more dropouts with only two guides is not realistic. The programme has had few financial problems so far. The dropouts are guided for an average of three years. The guidance is intensive at first, but gradually things ease up. The programme is currently guiding 30 dropouts. Approximately 30 persons have already withdrawn through the programme.

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The Hessian disengagement programme (IKARus) The programme in Hesse32 is relatively new and was not started until 2003. It is geared towards hangers-on and young people who have been in the extreme right-wing circuit for a relatively short time. The Hesse programme has two main branches. The first is aimed at hangers-on and young people who only recently ended up in an extreme-right environment. These young people are mostly between thirteen and sixteen years of age. Programme staff conduct interviews with them in which they are told about the risks and negative consequences of their right-wing extremist orientation. Often this is quite successful and the young people withdraw from the right-wing extremist scene. Wilfried Rexroth, head of the IKARus programme, says about this branch: The extreme right-wing milieu is a youth culture. Many young people only stay with a group temporarily, but if they have a dialogue [with the IKARus programme] they leave the milieu even sooner. In addition there are always young people who stay in the milieu. This usually has to do with good organization. If an extreme right organization offers interesting leisure-time activities, then these young people build up contacts with right-wing activists and become radicalized. You can avoid this with dialogues. The second branch of the programme is aimed at young people and young adults who have spent a longer amount of time in an extreme-right group and whose profiles resemble the profiles of dropouts in other programmes. Dropouts are mainly in the 18 to 20 age category. Alcohol addiction and involvement in acts of violence also play an important role here. The prevention of psychological problems among potential dropouts is also stressed. The dropouts are mainly from the Hessian countryside and their families are characterized as ‘typical middle-class families’. In these families, antiSemitic and xenophobic attitudes are said to be more the rule than the exception. Also striking is the fact that the vast majority of dropouts already exhibited behavioural and psychological problems in early childhood. It was also noted that few women are involved in the programme. In Hesse, too, the reasons for dropping out often have to do with pressure from a steady partner and the threat of criminal proceedings. The decision to drop out is a calculated one and runs something like this: either I go to the slammer for ten years or I disengage. The dropouts here choose the second option. Ideological reasons rarely play a role. Among the few women involved a different picture emerges. Women who are members of the rightwing extremist scene often suffer from abuse. Some have attempted suicide before ending up in the disengagement programme. Potential dropouts can contact the Hessian programme by telephone. More than 95 per cent of the incoming interviews are not with potential

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dropouts, however, but with third parties (including journalists) who want information about the programme. Making contact with the dropouts usually takes place through local institutions such as the police or a school. The programme in Hesse is quite well known, and for this reason many institutions call right away if they find they are dealing with a potential dropout. At the beginning of the process a personality profile of the dropout is drawn up. This helps the guide plan the following steps. In Hesse too, the beginning phase involves cleaning out the person’s residence and drawing up a fairly detailed contract. The Hessian project focuses on three clusters of aspects that receive a great deal of attention during the disengagement process: those having to do with membership of the extreme right-wing scene, with criminal law, and personal aspects. Safety plays an important role in the first cluster, but ideological questions also arise. In the second cluster the threat of criminal proceedings is most important. Seasoned activists may commit 70 to 80 offences during their extreme right-wing careers. Openness about offences that have been committed but not yet adjudicated is compulsory. Concerning offences yet to be adjudicated, the possibility of imposing a suspended sentence instead of a prison sentence is discussed with the courts and the judicial authorities. Personal aspects that require a great deal of attention mostly have to do with debts, social problems, socio-economic security and psychological disorders. The guidance process usually takes from three to six months. During the first month the dropout is guided by an IKARus staff member. If possible, guidance is then handed over to a local police officer. Some dropouts find it difficult to establish a confidential relationship with a ‘stranger’, however, and will not accept this change. In such cases, the IKARus staff member guides the dropout throughout the entire process. This usually means a workload of 100 to 150 hours per dropout. Like the North Rhine-Westphalia disengagement programme and the BfV programme, progress in the Hessian programme is strictly monitored. The police regularly check to see whether the dropout is committing new offences. If he is, this can result in his being excluded from the rest of the programme (like not fulfilling one’s contract does). After being guided for three to six months, most dropouts are relatively stable. Sometimes they are guided for longer periods. In the case of dropouts with a suspended sentence, guidance can sometimes take up to two years. The Hessian programme warns against overly high expectations. While most dropouts no longer commit new offences and break off contact with extreme-right circles, their ideological views – and enemy images – often remain unchanged. Their acceptance of democratic values is actually only superficial. Unlike the other programmes, the Hessian disengagement programme has an extensive network of working partners. Several Hessian ministries, the intelligence service and the police are closely involved in the programme. The Hessian project also has contact with a network of local agencies. IKARus itself has two staff members. At the moment the programme has

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enough capacity to provide proper guidance for all dropouts. The programme also has regular contact persons among all its partners. And each Hessian police district has a police officer who supports the programme, keeps an eye on the extreme-right scene and guides dropouts. In the last three years the programme has done interviews with about 150 hangers-on and sympathizers. These young people, we were told, have not had any further involvement in extreme-right circles. By mid-2006, the programme had been responsible for pulling about 50 dropouts from the extreme right scene. IKARus was at that time guiding seven individuals. Another reason why the Hessian programme is successful, as we understand it, is that it has no financial problems.

Conclusions These rather diverse projects in Norway, Sweden and Germany have several aspects in common. They are all promoting and facilitating disengagement of individuals involved in racist and right-wing extremist movements, and not only focusing on reducing recruitment of youths to such groups, which has been the traditional preventive approach. Another common trait is that these projects are addressing the general life situation of the clients rather than giving priority to changing racist and extremist attitudes, which has also been the approach of traditional programmes to reduce racist movements. Involving family members, in particular parents and romantic partners, is another common approach in these projects, although to a varying degree. However, the differences between the programmes are also striking. One main distinction is between the NGO programmes (represented by the various Exit projects) and the governmental disengagement programmes and projects. Governmental programmes are generally better funded than the NGOs, and can therefore provide more assistance and follow-up services for a longer period than the NGOs are able to do. The German governmental programmes also tend to put stricter conditions on including new clients in the programme, and then make use of contracts they have to fulfil in order to pass through the programme. Continued contact with friends from the extremist scene or failure to kick drug habits or alcohol abuse may be sufficient reasons to be excluded. Programmes run by the security service or police organizations also have greater capacities and legal opportunities to monitor the clients during and after their participation in the programme, for example their involvement in acts of crime. This factor in particular may possibly (or at least to some extent) explain why the governmental programmes apparently seem to have a higher failure rate then the NGO programmes claim to have. The NGOs do not have the same possibilities for monitoring their clients’ behaviour and criminal records. It is therefore likely that the NGOs do not detect that some of their clients might have been involved in delinquent or extremist behaviour after they officially disengaged. On the other hand, one would expect that the stricter conditions for being accepted into the governmental programmes would result in higher rather than lower success rates.

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On the other hand, governmental programmes may face certain legal problems (in particular in Germany) which, for example, restrict the security service from including youths under the age of 18 in their disengagement programme. Thus the target groups vary between the programmes; some focus on leaders or older hard-core activists, others on young teenagers, and some on parents and other family members, and some cover all these groups. The NGO Exit programmes also have some advantages. They are (to various degrees) more based on principles of peer counselling schemes and mentoring by a more experienced peer. To some extent they resemble self-help groups like Alcoholics Anonymous. The threshold for a neo-Nazi seeking help from an NGO run by people who have a personal experience from the same extremist scene is probably lower than for approaching a disengagement programme run by a security service or another governmental organization. A model based on shared experience among equals has some obvious benefits compared with a more authoritarian model based on contracts and control by people in a position of power to provide or withdraw scarce goods. All disengagement programmes need to find a proper balance between trust and control. The governmental and the NGO programmes have different approaches here, with different points of balance. Trust also goes both ways; it is easier for individuals trying to disengage from a neo-Nazi scene to trust a guide who in the past has been through what they are going through now than trusting someone working for the government or intelligence agency – the enemy of the past. This may also spill over on the credibility of the ex-extremist if they go into a role of warning others to join the extremist scene, or as a role model for disengagement. Someone who has left the extremist scene through the help of an NGO run by his equals is likely to have greater credibility than someone who has ‘collaborated with the security services’. The suspicion that he might have informed on his former friends or received payment may undermine that person’s trustworthiness. A somewhat different approach is the close collaboration on disengagement activities between NGOs and governmental agencies in Norway. There seems to be less competition and more cooperation than has been the case for example in Germany, where the government at federal and state levels apparently started their own disengagement programmes more or less as a response to the establishment of the NGO EXIT-Deutschland. One advantage of the Norwegian model is that disengagement work becomes part of the normal activities of established public agencies and their customary partnerships with other agencies and NGOs. This model also provides for flexibility in terms of capacity, as resources can more easily be moved to and from other activities when demand for services in this field ebb and flow. This might be a good solution for small countries with limited problems of extremism. Specialized organizations for facilitating disengagement may be more demanding in terms of resources but are also likely to have a sharper focus on the specific problem they are set up to deal with.

9

Disengagement and beyond A case study of demobilization in Colombia Marcella Ribetti

The idea behind studying deradicalization and disengagement is that these policies could significantly limit terrorist and insurgent groups’ capacity to operate, reduce violence, and even lead to conflict termination. In this chapter, I use the example of Colombia to illustrate how disengagement can be an effective strategy for security only under specific circumstances. An additional objective is to discuss why and when disengagement initiatives are poised to succeed; that is, to deliver productive agents of society who are not involved in criminal activities. I explore how three key factors may buttress the success of disengagement in the long term: the fighters’ true intention to abandon the group and insurgent lifestyle; former fighters’ environment and networks, and the existence and implementation of a comprehensive and organic reincorporation program. This chapter does not pretend to pass judgement on the Colombian Reincorporation Program, as it is still too early in the process to draw any definitive conclusion of its success or failure. Instead it will describe and analyse available reincorporation data and program initiatives so as to reach preliminary appreciations of what factors may promote successful disengagement in that country. Within those parameters, this chapter may highlight successful reincorporation initiatives for insurgencies with similar character to the FARC or the paramilitaries. This chapter will hopefully provide testimony that disengagement is a context-specific phenomenon for which tailored demobilization and reincorporation strategies, processes and policies are necessary.

Demobilization in Colombia In this chapter, disengagement is understood as ceasing to participate in a group that carries out organized violent acts against or in support of a state. There are at least two modalities of disengagement, through a government program or without government assistance. Here I consider only the former because there is no available data on those who demobilize without government assistance in Colombia, since these individuals usually want to preserve their anonymity. For those who demobilize through a government program,

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disengagement corresponds to demobilization. This chapter is not concerned with a systematic approach to the issue of deradicalization because participation in insurgent groups in Colombia is not necessarily ideological, and it thus follows that reincorporation programs need not necessarily have a specific politico-ideological component in this context. The Colombian experience is an interesting one to study for three reasons. First, the Colombian case is the first and very possibly the only reincorporation in the world (currently) where there is an abundance of data on former fighters. This includes data such as their whereabouts; their relationship with their families; whether they are attending school, vocational training, or reporting to their job sites; how the community is handling the reincorporation, etc.1 Additionally, though not all data is made available, a considerable portion is. A significant amount of the data used in this chapter comes from the Colombian Government Reincorporation Program, the Reincorporation Program in Medellín (called Peace and Reconciliation), and the Colombian Police, while examples and anecdotal information come from my personal research and experience working with former insurgents in Colombia. In the future, this data may allow scholars to understand the relative impact of different reincorporation initiatives such as education and vocational training on the success of disengagement, and their causal link to security. Second, the Colombian case gives us the opportunity to compare individual with collective demobilizations, and thus we are afforded rare insights into the potential effects of demobilization type on reincorporation success. Third, differently from other cases where demobilization programs are put in place at the end of a conflict to disarm and reintegrate fighters, in Colombia demobilization is a conflict termination strategy, which is being implemented while the conflict continues. In other words, it is an instrument toward an end, and not an end in itself. In this sense, it is interesting because it could allow scholars and policy-makers to make inferences about the causal impact of ‘disengagement’ as a policy for conflict management and termination and overall security. Historical note The Colombian conflict has endured for over forty years. The main participants are two leftist guerrilla groups (the Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia, FARC, and the Ejército de Liberación Nacional, ELN), a number of paramilitary organizations (primarily under the umbrella of the AUC), and the armed forces as the representatives of the state. Scholars generally associate the formation of guerrilla groups with the period of La Violencia, the civil war of the 1940s (1948–53) when the Liberal and Conservative Parties disputed the reins of political power over the state with the help of irregular groups (bandoleros on the liberal side and pajaros on the conservative).2 The political contestation that ensued superimposed itself

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upon an explosive social context in the countryside, which further ignited violence and unveiled its underlying social causes. At least initially, peasant leagues and incipient communist organizations gained some success in obtaining access to land in areas of late colonization. These were mainly areas in the country’s south-west (Sumapaz and Southern Tolima), where land tenure was extremely unequal and where the presence of the state was minimal. But after a short-lived reversal of land tenure policies in the 1930s, the state deployed the armed forces to control these organizations. Extreme violence ensued, leading many to flee toward the eastern plains. Finally, the end of the partisan struggle in 1953 led to an amnesty and to the first state-led demobilization in Colombia, but the failure of the state to devise a reincorporation program to assist the rebels compromised the success of the initiative. For example, Manuel Marulanda, the supreme leader of the FARC, asserted in private conversations that failure to obtain identification documents, as part of the amnesty plan, made it impossible for him to live in society and left him with no alternative but to ‘return to the mountains’.3 In another attempt to demobilize rebel-controlled areas in 1963, the Colombian Government offered inhabitants the option to participate in a ‘Rehabilitation Program’, this time with socio-economic benefits. However, distrustful of the government, not all leaders and inhabitants of guerrilladominated lands chose to participate. Ultimately, the aversion to any form of opposition and the increasing communist threat led to repressive tactics, and the rebels4 reacted by organizing an army with offensive objectives, the FARC.5 Initially, the FARC financed its struggle against the Colombian state with sympathizers’ ‘tax’ money, but soon these funds become insufficient. In the early 1980s this organization became involved in extortion and drug trafficking to rapidly increase its financial capacity. Large landowners, who became the FARC’s primary targets, reacted by forming and supporting self-defense groups6 under the leadership of the Castaño brothers (Fidel, Carlos and Vicente),7 who offered protection in exchange for the support and control of the population as well as cash to sustain organizational growth.8 By the mid-nineties Fidel, who was an associate of Pablo Escobar and the Medellín Cartel, and his brother Carlos, who had a charismatic personality and conservative political beliefs, convinced existing paramilitary groups to join the Autodefensas Unidas de Colombia (AUC). Though the AUC were a primarily counter-insurgent entity and their objective was to support the state and assist the government in regaining control over Colombian soil through crude guerrilla-like tactics,9 each component organization retained its individual aspirations, objectives and, in some cases, independence. Some, especially in the south, were actually the private armies of drug traffickers and were counter-insurgents more because they wanted to eliminate competitors in the drug production chain than for ideological reasons; while others were more ideological in character.10 Eventually, though,

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all were or became tainted by narcotraffic. For them, as for the guerrillas, involvement in the drug trade was a practical choice. By 2002 the AUC had achieved control of large swathes of northern Colombia, from the Panamanian to the Venezuelan borders and pockets in the south-east and west. Because territorial control in intrastate conflicts necessarily requires the support of the population (whether wholehearted or not), and the AUC sought to transform itself into a non-violent political group, negotiating would allow the organization to survive in a post-conflict scenario.12 In December 2002 a still strong but internally fractured AUC declared a unilateral cease of hostilities that would preserve their right to self-defense, if attacked. By then, the organization had become progressively divided into two camps: the original founders, whose objective was primarily to re-conquer guerrilla-controlled territory, and the drug traffickers whose growing influence in the group compromised its original scope and nature.13 Preliminary talks with the government led to a basic, non-specific and partial agreement in 2003 and eventually to the demobilization of more than 30,000 members over the following three years. However, the negotiations between the Colombian Government and the AUC never produced written and/or public agreements.14 Finally, the leadership relied on President Uribe to occupy the security vacuum left by their disarmament and to ensure leniency with prison sentences. The FARC is still an armed organization, and many doubt that negotiations could ever occur under the Uribe government, though there are an increasing number of defectors.15 A ‘Justice and Peace Law’ was passed in Colombia on 22 June 2005, after a year of Congressional debate on the extent of the legal concessions that should be allowed to demobilizing forces. By then, almost the entire AUC had already demobilized. In previous demobilizations in 1984 (with the FARC) and 1990 (with the M-19), the Colombian government granted amnesty to the fighters; however, such an option was not available for the AUC. The international community and Colombians themselves would not allow it: the paramilitaries had committed widely publicized atrocities that people would not simply forgive and forget. Much to the dismay of the AUC leadership and, some say, against agreements privately accorded with the government negotiating team,16 the insurgent leadership ended up in maximum security prisons and some may be extradited to the United States on drug trafficking charges. As a condition of participation in the program, all demobilizing AUC fighters must confess their crimes (versión libre in Spanish), which are then investigated by the appropriate authorities. Three offenses are pardonable: rebellion, conspiracy to commit a crime, and owning or carrying unregistered weapons. Fighters who confess to these can access the reincorporation benefits prescribed by Law 782 of 2002 (which will be described below). Instead, fighters who confess to or are found to have committed more serious crimes, such as crimes against humanity, kidnapping and drug trafficking,

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must be judged under the ‘Justice and Peace Law’, which prescribes imprisonment for a period of between five and eight years. At the time of this writing, only the highest leaders have been sentenced under the ‘Justice and Peace Law’. Though this law is more severe than other transitional justice legislation, a number of civil society groups have nevertheless criticized it for being too lenient, and it is still unclear how three significant issues will be tackled. First, the law does not discuss the issue of extradition, which was the AUC’s leadership’s main concern – and one they assumed would be resolved in their favor upon demobilizing. The threat of extradition made the paramilitaries feel betrayed by the government, and instigated them to reveal the identity of their ideological and financial supporters, many of whom were local and national level politicians, and some had close ties to President Uribe. Second, the law clearly establishes that no group or individual whose primary motive was narcotrafficking can be judged under it. Moreover, it establishes that the Law can only be applied to crimes that occurred while in the organization and not before or after that time. However, the history of the AUC and the biographies of most of the leaders suggest that in practice the law could only cover a small percentage of those currently being judged under it. Hence, it is unclear how it may benefit the leaders or how it could be applied systematically. Finally, though the law prescribes that the victims are entitled to ‘reparation’, either by the paramilitaries themselves or by the state and either monetarily or symbolically, the paramilitaries have turned over few illegally acquired goods so far. Perhaps the most interesting and significant aspect of the law and the process it prescribes is the fact that it offers victims and all Colombians the opportunity to meet the perpetrators face to face and discover the truth about the past. So far, the Justice and Peace Law has been applied systematically and seriously in Colombia. New cases are being heard and the victims are speaking up. The OAS reports that just one year after its application, already over 40,000 victims have demanded to participate in the process. A palpable testimony to the importance of the law for the Colombian public was that 650 victims traveled, sometimes from far away, to hear Salvatore Mancuso’s (the AUC leader after Castaño disappeared) confession. These are staggering numbers, especially considering that many may still fear the men in question and the costs associated with traveling are not small. Indeed, most have been satisfied with the process.17 The Attorney General’s Office (Fiscalía) has responded promptly to the demands of the public, keeping citizens informed of the state of each investigation through the internet and informational sessions where the victims’ rights and new regulations are explained. Indeed, generally, government institutions have demonstrated that they act upon the confessions by exhuming bodies and identifying remains promptly.18

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Demobilization in Colombia: approach and process The Colombian government has traditionally considered demobilization and reincorporation as acceptable strategies to debilitate insurgent groups. However, it has only recently created a program to implement this strategy. While the government has allowed for select demobilization of insurgent groups since the 1960s and more recently of individuals, a true reincorporation policy has been pursued only since 1999. There are two ways in which the government demobilizes members of illegal armed groups in Colombia – individually and collectively. Individual demobilizations are basically defections to the government. Collective demobilizations are the disbandment of an entire group as a result of negotiations with the government. At the time of writing, 31,671 fighters have demobilized collectively and 13,081 individually in Colombia.19 Most of those who demobilized individually (9,079) came from guerrilla groups, primarily the FARC.20 With few notable exceptions,21 the AUC has been the only organization to demobilize collectively in the last twenty years.22 Members of illegal armed groups who demobilize individually turn themselves in to a government entity (i.e. the military, police, justices, attorney generals or ombudsmen) and must receive the approval of an interagency committee (CODA)23 to receive economic and social benefits and a pardon for the crime of rebellion. Once they are certified, they enter the Reincorporation Program and become entitled to healthcare coverage, a stipend and free education for 18 months (academic and vocational), and eight million pesos (USD 4,000) to start a micro-enterprise. These benefits are all clearly explained in Law 782 of 2002. When the AUC began negotiating with the government, the only existing reincorporation process was the ‘individual’ one. In the interest of expediency, all benefits granted to those in the ‘individual’ program by Law 782, except for micro-enterprise funding (at first), were extended to those who demobilized collectively and declared not having committed crimes against humanity.24 A demobilization plan was sketched in November of 2004, exactly a year after the first paramilitary group turned in their weapons to Medellín and right before the second series of demobilizations. The plan contemplated three phases, not all of which were fully implemented. The first phase was an informational one aimed at bringing locals up to speed on demobilization and reincorporation activities. The second encompassed the actual disarmament and demobilization. The plan called for the concentration of AUC units in pre-established areas where fighters would undergo a series of demobilization activities, though not all of them ended up being carried out consistently and thoroughly. Within two to three days troops would: receive a brief informational session regarding the Reincorporation Program and the psychological impact of returning home; undergo a DNA test, confirm their identity before the law and receive a ‘demobilized’ ID card; answer a socio-economic survey to assess their

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reincorporation requirements and enable individual tracking; sign a declaration stating renunciation of AUC membership and all illegal activity in the future; and, finally, receive medical attention, and the first transportation and food subsidy. The third phase contemplated fighters’ reincorporation into their community.

Factors that may lead to successful disengagement At the time of writing, three years have passed since the first collective demobilization took place, and preliminary outcomes can now be observed. On 3 January 2007, the Commander of Colombia National Police, General Jorge Castro, announced that in 2006 Colombia had the lowest murder rate in twenty years, dropping from 28,837 homicides in 2002 to 17,209 in 2006. He attributed the drop to the implementation of President Uribe’s National Security Policy, of which disengagement is a component.25 Later on the same year, CERAC, a Colombian think tank, published an article that further identified the effects of demobilization on security, calculating that such initiatives prevented between 1,400 and 2,800 homicides and that, on average, the homicide rate dropped by 13 per cent in the area of operation of groups that are now demobilized.26 These statistics suggest that disengagement can be an effective strategy for security. Recently, though, public officials in Colombia and demobilization observers started noticing a worrisome trend of former fighters joining and forming gangs that appear to be primarily criminal in character. In their thirteenth monthly Control and Monitoring Report, the Reincorporation Program noted that 245 of the 1,474 gang members (16.6%) captured between 2006 and 2007 were demobilized individuals. In other words, almost one fifth of the members of emerging gangs may be considered former insurgents. Additionally, the number of captured gang members who had demobilized appears to be growing – 79 were captured by May and 92 by June of 2007 – indicating that former insurgent participation in gangs may become a security problem. Finally, since not all fighters’ identities were confirmed at the time of demobilization, the number of demobilized caught in illegal activities may well be higher than reported. These statistics suggest that disengagement may be an effective strategy for security only if former insurgents can become productive agents of society who are not involved in criminal activities.27 Below, I will discuss three factors that seem to impact the success of disengagement in important ways: motivation, program and environment. The intention to demobilize Available data from the Reincorporation Program shows that most of the former fighters who were captured because they committed criminal activities had demobilized collectively and are ex-AUC. At the time of writing, complete information exists for 58 of the 110 former fighters captured participating

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in criminal gangs between January and July 2007. Of these 58, only two had demobilized individually, while 56 (96 per cent) had done so collectively. The Organization of American States (OAS), which verifies reincorporation in Colombia, corroborates this trend in its Ninth Quarterly Report, revealing the discovery of 22 criminal networks with significant former AUC participation and command and control structures.28 The two groups (individually and collectively demobilized) present similar socio-economic characteristics. Both groups are relatively young. Thirty per cent of AUC fighters were under 25 and only 9 per cent over 40 when they demobilized; while 47 per cent of the individually demobilized were younger than 25 upon defecting.29 Neither group has clear plans or aspirations for the future. Their educational level is low: 50 per cent of those collectively demobilized can barely read and write and 8 per cent are illiterate.30 Moreover, though 75 per cent of them say they want to live in the city, they do not have the formal training that would qualify them to obtain a job. Many also suffer from psychological traumas, presumably caused by excessive exposure to and threat of violence: 16 per cent of those who demobilized individually suffer from depression and 40 per cent are delirious or feel persecuted. As a result, most become addicted to alcohol and drugs upon re-entering society.31 The only difference between these groups is the mode of demobilization. The collective nature of the AUC demobilization did not require a decision to change lifestyle on the part of fighters because the resolution to dissolve the group was made at ‘the top’, and many speculate that it was based on the political calculations and aspirations of the leadership. The rank and file had no option but to obey, turn in their weapons, and return home. On the other hand, combatants who demobilize individually choose to abandon the group, turning themselves in to the authorities voluntarily. AUC fighters were primarily mercenaries. In return for their participation they received generous monetary compensation (in comparison to what they could earn in the legal realm, given their lack of skills) and additional tangible benefits. For example, they enjoyed healthcare as the organization paid for insurance and medical health coverage, including through a ‘sanitation battalion’ for the recovery of the wounded. Fighters also received perks such as weapons and status as they de facto ruled the populations they controlled militarily. Moreover, in informal conversations demobilized members depicted an environment where organizational rules were clear and implemented in a relatively transparent manner. Additionally, they often had a familial relationship with their leaders, referring to them as ‘father’ (‘padre’ in Spanish) and displaying affective and trustful behaviors toward them. Indeed, most AUC fighters appeared to be generally pleased with their participation in the organization when they demobilized and did not necessarily want to leave it or the insurgent lifestyle behind. In sum, they demobilized primarily to follow an order.32 The demobilization of Bloque Calima (in Galicia, near Bugalagrande, Valle) magnificently illustrates these points. At the disarmament ceremony,

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demobilizing fighters greeted Salvatore Mancuso with extreme enthusiasm and euphoria as he approached the field in his thundering helicopter; however, they showed no interest in the civilians presiding over the event or in what they had to say. During the ceremony, fighters away from the podium were distracted and busy chatting with one another – an unexpected attitude considering that their life was about to change radically.33 Today we know that some of them are armed anew and continue to be a menacing force in the mountains of south-western Colombia.34 The motivations of those who demobilize individually appear to be completely different from the ones described above. Recent studies suggest that in cases of individual demobilization, the main reason for leaving the organization is discontent.35 Discontent takes many forms. Some mention the fear of being subjected to the excessively rigid disciplinary code, which prescribes hard punishments, sometimes for infractions they may not have committed or do not consider grave.36 The guerrilla is suspicious by nature, and interprets complaints as an indication that the person may be a spy. It follows that the rank and file usually cannot share their doubts and feelings on the organization for fear of being reported to the higher authorities, so they live within themselves, confiding only in a few close friends. Others who leave the FARC often mention the uneven application of the rules and the leaders’ failure to follow through with their promises (such as payment, compensation to their families and vacation time) as reasons for leaving. Some question the fairness of their leaders since they bend many rules, including maintaining a romantic relationship while the rank and file are prohibited from doing so. Moreover, the rank and file complain that their leaders break up others’ relationships with the intent of luring the female guerrilla into their arms. Others mention as a reason for leaving the disillusionment with the leadership, which is often perceived as cowardly, deceitful, antagonistic and privileged; and others the realization that the organization’s goals are unachievable.37 In other words, for all of those who leave, civilian life represents a preferable alternative to life in the organization,38 though not a perfect one. In this sense, for some, disengagement is not refusing the ideal or message of the guerrillas, but rather it means just leaving the organization behind.

The reincorporation program Reincorporation in Colombia is centred on socio-economic and legal benefits.39 Those who demobilize are entitled to receive benefits such as formal education and vocational training, healthcare coverage, the provision of security, and income generation opportunities. Access to benefits occurs through a referral and orientation center called CRO40, where, according to the Program, former fighters register for classes and workshops, sign up for special services, and meet with advisers who help them formulate a realistic ‘reincorporation path’, and help them solve problems and navigate the

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government bureaucracy. Not all these activities have been carried out as expected; however, the Program has evolved considerably since the collective demobilizations began in 2003 and has overcome many of its initial organizational and structural challenges. I will discuss some of these below to provide readers with background to better understand the impact of preparedness on reincorporation success, which may well be considered in future demobilization/reincorporation policy and planning. The organizational challenge of benefit allocation The Program confronted several organizational challenges in delivering benefits. Many of these could have been avoided by planning, early involvement of key implementers (such as local governments and business), and greater knowledge of the population. For example, from its onset, the program emphasized improving fighters’ educational levels; however, in July of 2007, over a year after the last demobilization took place, only 32 per cent of the beneficiaries were enrolled in formal education classes.41 Several factors that went unaddressed in the pre-demobilization and early reincorporation phase have precluded, retarded or hindered enrolment. First, rural schools hardly offer educational programs for adults and former fighters are uncomfortable in traditional programs where they share the classroom with children, so completing basic education takes many years. In the urban areas, schools are sometimes located in neighborhoods where the demobilized do not go for security reasons, as is the case for some in Medellín. Second, enrolment takes place only at selected times of the year, either in January or in August, causing a lag in benefit delivery if the demobilization does not coincide with the enrolment opening. Third, and perhaps most importantly, fighters are used to living a life of excitement and danger, where they focus on a task intensely for a limited time and change activity and environment frequently. School requires self-discipline and consistency, and results may not be immediately visible. In other words, it demands a significant attitudinal shift – and one that takes time to achieve. The delivery of vocational training suffered from similar challenges. As of July 2007, only about 32 per cent of the collectively demobilized population was receiving this training. Several factors may explain this result. Primarily, programs are offered in many different parts of the country, but not in every municipality; thus not all beneficiaries who would otherwise take advantage of the opportunity, in fact, can. Furthermore, most vocational training classes require having completed primary education to enrol, hence most former fighters do not qualify. Though program managers have curtailed this requirement, they discovered that eliminating it may be a mistake because students must have mastered certain skills to succeed in those programs. For example, if a person does not know how to calculate a circumference, s/he cannot cut a tube to a specified size in plumbing class. In many cases, demobilized fighters who take vocational training classes, but do not

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have the basic reading and maths skills, feel overwhelmed, and often abandon the course. Employment seems to be the main concern of demobilized fighters. This is hardly a surprise since, in the absence of payment by the organization, they must receive an income to sustain their families and themselves. In the AUC a rank-and-file member would earn between 500 and 1,000 Colombian pesos while no specific skill was required and the organization offered a relatively steady job. The Colombian labor market, instead, is characterized by the opposite – it requires skilled labor and it offers no job security, while salaries are not competitive. For reincorporation program managers employing former fighters is important not only because once employed they become less financially draining on the program, but also because working teaches the beneficiaries self-discipline and keeps them occupied physically and mentally for many hours per day, leaving less time to think about going astray. But hardly any preparation was made to address the looming problem of unemployment before fighters demobilized. The program still struggles with the issue of employment: on one hand, though former fighters would like to have immediate jobs, they are unqualified for most; on the other, employers will only with difficultly choose ex-combatants over civilians as the former are looked upon with suspicion; thus luring the private industry to hire demobilized individuals has not been easy and was pursued only well into the demobilization process. Former fighters are also given the option of forming a micro-enterprise, either alone or in association with an experienced entrepreneur. A few associative enterprises have been formed in northern Antioqia, with some success; but individual micro-enterprises have been slower in forming because of the lack of preparedness of the population and the strict financing requirements of the program. Additionally, demobilized fighters are entitled to access to the public healthcare system, which covers emergency and basic services. The enrolment process is complicated and bureaucratic. To be able to grant this benefit, program offices must request that the Ministry of Health hold and assign a specified number of slots to the municipalities where the demobilized reside. This clause assumes that the program has full disclosure of where each demobilized soldier will live with some anticipation. Though this information is usually captured at the demobilization and updated thereafter, two issues delay the assignment of healthcare slots: first, slot assignment only occurs at specific times of the year and not on a continuous basis; second, for security reasons fighters may not disclose where they intend to live and they change residence frequently. Given these obstacles, only 41 per cent of the population was enrolled in a healthcare program a year after the last demobilization took place (though all had access to emergency care through the hospital system).42 Finally, former fighters are also granted a monthly stipend of 400,000 Colombian pesos (200 USD), plus a transportation allowance to move to and

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from school. This amount equals the minimum wage in Colombia. But to qualify for it beneficiaries must be enrolled on and attend formal education and vocational training courses. Program rules and regulations on the amount and requirements to obtain the stipend have changed numerous times since the inception of the collective program, creating confusion and uncertainty for many demobilized fighters and also for program implementers. The idea of creating financial incentives to induce former fighters to study is innovative and interesting, but it also requires program managers to have in place a system that is easy to operate and flexible enough to detect frequent changes in the status of the beneficiaries – it is an open question whether the reincorporation program has this flexibility today. Structural problems Apart from the bureaucratic and logistical challenges related to the delivery of the benefits mentioned above, demobilization and reincorporation in Colombia suffered from structural flaws. The first one was that no special demobilization and reintegration arrangement was made for higher-ranking fighters. While the leaders had made the decision to disband their groups and presumably had post-demobilization plans, not all mid-level commanders viewed demobilizing favorably, and had voiced concerns during the negotiations.43 Moreover, soon after disarming, they began recruiting demobilized fighters and forming new criminal gangs at the service of drug trafficking.44 Though there is no tangible proof that reduced income (relative to what they received in the past) and fewer opportunities impact rearmament, many speculate that they do, and the significant number of mid-level commanders who have re-armed suggests that such a hypothesis is likely to stand up. The second and most significant structural problem was the absolute lack of planning on the part of the government. When the High Commissioner for Peace and the AUC declared that negotiations had concluded and that the AUC were ready to demobilize in 2003, no demobilization or reincorporation plan or legal procedure for it existed, giving critics grounds to interpret the entire process as a ‘gentlemen’s agreement’, with certain paramilitary leaders on one side and certain political elites on the other. Indeed, no plan existed, still, a year later when the announcement was made that the AUC would demobilize totally. Consequently, demobilizations differed one from another, since the number of pre-reincorporation activities and assessments carried out varied and an actual Reincorporation Program finally took shape only in late 2007. Additionally, different interpretations of the law continue to hinder the legal processes involving former paramilitaries.45 Moreover, demobilizations took place (both years) at the end of November, just a few weeks before Colombia’s extended Christmas holidays, making it impossible for the government to accomplish necessary tasks such as staffing reincorporation

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offices and registering former insurgents for academic and vocational training courses, which began in January. The CROs were set up early on in the process and have been the Program’s interface with the beneficiaries since immediately after demobilizing; though at first and for a long time they were understaffed and lacked a clear mandate, and thus failed to deliver benefits in a timely fashion. For example, after the CRO opened in Turbo, Antioquia (the first one to open), former soldiers had high hopes that they would receive a stipend, but a month later there were no signs that the government would disburse any such funds. This tardiness on the part of the government became an opportunity for the former commander of the ‘Bloque Bananero’ (Banana Block, as they were called, from controlling the rich banana-producing areas) to maintain control of his troops by opening an office that became known as the ‘alternative CRO’. As disappointed former insurgents walked down the stairs from the third floor, they would stop on the second to get cash, directly from their ex-boss, aka Hernan Hernandez. Today, mid-level commanders are largely responsible for recruiting former AUC members into (new and old) criminal gangs, and Hernandez is in jail for having abandoned the reincorporation process and joined a criminal gang. At the same time, inter-institutional competition between the High Commissioner for Peace and the Head of the Reincorporation Office within the Ministry of Interior prevented a clear division of labor between the two entities, resulting in grave confusion regarding what tasks each would carry out, and tremendous inefficiencies. Significant progress in benefit allocation and systematization of the reincorporation process occurred only after the presidential decision of making reincorporation a priority and the creation of a higher institution for the formulation and management of the Reincorporation Program.46 With time, the Reincorporation staff and leadership began learning from previous mistakes and oversights, leading to today’s more comprehensive and organized approach to DDR.

A comprehensive approach to reincorporation Rearmament of demobilized insurgents can bring about a ‘disorganization of violence’ and seriously compromise security. It is still too soon to judge the dimension and character of the security threat that rearmed agents pose for Colombia; however, the data available gives cause for optimism. While about 17 per cent of the members of emerging criminal groups may comprise former insurgents, and while a number of these appear to be former mid-level commanders, those who have rearmed finally constitute only about 5 per cent of those demobilized collectively and an even lower percentage of those who demobilized individually. In this section I use available data from the Medellín and the National Programs to discuss the impact that a comprehensive approach to reincorporation may be having on disengagement. The data seems to indicate that the existence of a Reincorporation Program,

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albeit applied haphazardly at first and with many changes along the way, the fulfillment (in general terms) of the reincorporation benefits, and the extraordinary dedication of many Program officials, appear to have had a positive impact on disengagement. At the same time, though, available statistical and anecdotal information cautions us that the Reincorporation Program may only have limited impact on disengagement. The program has evolved considerably since the demobilizations began in 2003, and so have the CROs. It has moved away from its focus on delivering single benefits to understanding former fighters holistically, and the figure of the adviser (a social worker or psychologist) has become predominant. Today, the benefits are delivered sequentially, and only when demobilized individuals are deemed ready to receive them. The initial 18-month time limit for the disbursal of benefits and the ‘cookie cutter’ approach to reinsertion have been supplanted by an individualized attention with flexible timelines and a focus on the population’s socio-psychological needs. At the time of this writing, these changes have been more conceptual than real as the program still struggles to define how it will ultimately operate. The government’s transition from a strictly benefit-oriented approach to a more individualized and comprehensive one, where advisers work with former fighters in formulating a ‘reincorporation path’ and where the sociopsychological component weighs heavily, is incipient and derives from the reincorporation experience in Medellín. In Medellín, a team of psychologists and sociologists works with each former combatant, their family and the community directly and through a team of former combatants (the ‘orientators’) hired by the Mayor’s office. The psychologists train the ‘orientators’ to conduct prediagnostic assessments of the demobilized they follow; they also organize workshops and seminars and hold therapy sessions. An innovative approach, it is based on the knowledge that combatants tend to lose their individuality when they are part of an organization because they are trained to follow orders and not to think for themselves. Inevitably, in society and immediately after they demobilize, they are asked to make choices such as what to study, where to live, where to work, etc; but they have difficulty making decisions. They must relearn that skill, and improve it. Reincorporation officers can play a significant role in helping former insurgents make decisions by mentoring, advising and following up with each one of them. Surprisingly, though, the well-thought-out approach to reincorporation in Medellín and the noteworthy efficiency of the program managers in implementing it, have led to only slightly more successful disengagement figures than those of the National Reincorporation Program where a coordinated and comprehensive effort was implemented two to three years after the first groups demobilized. For example, while 4.6 per cent (1,471 out of 31,671) of former paramilitaries at the national level committed criminal acts after demobilizing, the recidivism rate in Medellín is 3 per cent – a difference of 1.6 percentage points.47 Moreover, program administrators at the national level speculate that as many as 9 per cent of former AUC members

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might be involved in illegal activities, while the Mayor of Medellín admits that even under the propitious program in his city, as many as 10 per cent of those who have demobilized may be recidivists, even while they continue to participate in program activities. In terms of producing productive members of society, results also appear similar: 43 per cent of former paramilitaries are working in Medellín, while 39 per cent (only 4 less percentage points) are working at the national level. And while 34 per cent of former AUC are enrolled in vocational training nationally, only 10 per cent are in Medellín, though the low enrolment number is due primarily to the program managers’ choice of fostering formal education over vocational training; in fact, 76 per cent of former AUC members are studying in Medellín while about half as many (36 per cent) are doing so nationwide.48 Other available data corroborates this trend. Preliminary information suggests that the correlation between program omissions (at the national level) and recidivism is not strong.49 These findings lead one to question the efficiency (not effectiveness) of choosing more complex programs instead of basic ones. It is possible that the comprehensiveness of a program may impact reincorporation success only at the margins; meaning that it could dissuade those who are undecided about reincorporation to a greater extent than a basic delivery of services, but it still may not have a significant impact on those who are not motivated to totally disengage (as explained above) or who live in environments characterized by the presence of illegal enterprises (as explained below). A former fighter best described the impact of a reincorporation program in his decision to disengage, saying: ‘I am not mobilized or demobilized; now I am immobilized. I want to see how the reincorporation goes, and based on that, I will make my decision.’ Finally, future studies should consider reincorporation comparatively to gain a better understanding of the causal effect of complex and basic programs on successful disengagement and deradicalization.

Environment and networks: the fundamental problem that remains Often demobilized fighters return to the same environment that lead them to join illegal armed groups in the first place – one characterized by few employment opportunities, but plenty to earn money easily in illegal trades, such as contraband, drug trafficking, killing for hire, etc. One former AUC member explains: The last commander under whom I operated, who is a good and correct guy, is offering me 1,000 pesos to go back to the mountain [i.e. re-arm]. Already many of those who were with me at the CRO have re-armed. They even told me that they have new guns and machine guns. Tell me, why I should continue to wait without a job here in Monteria?50

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Following the disarmament and demobilization of former paramilitary fighters, homicides have increased in areas where narcos now fight over coca fields and transportation routes, and heavily recruit gangs that exert force on their behalf. For example, crime increased in Tumaco (13 per cent) and Buenaventura (8 per cent), which are port towns that are notoriously used in the commercialization of coca along the Pacific Cost. Criminal gangs related to the drug trade and FARC have operated in those areas for decades. Crime, instead, decreased in other municipalities such as Apartadó (down by 52 per cent) where narcotrafficking is not endemic. Besides re-recruitment into drugrelated criminal gangs, disengagement in the case of Colombia encounters an additional obstacle: a long-lasting insurgent conflict. In environments affected by violence over extended periods of time, the value of life is transformed. In Colombia, where conflict and criminal-related violence are interrelated and intense, large sectors of society have learned to cope with insecurity instead of rejecting it. The city of Medellín, where the infamous Pablo Escobar lived and employed much of the youth in low-income areas, is an exemplary case. When Pablo was killed, the youth gangs he controlled began working for paramilitary groups (about 50 per cent of today’s demobilized AUC fighters in Medellín participated in gangs from childhood). Moreover, because their participation significantly contributed to family income, it was often encouraged. The fact that families and the community at large used fighters’ aliases to call them instead of their given name, indicates the level of indirect support these fighters received from their immediate environment. For example, I learned this story: when asked for his given name, a fighter from the Cacique Nutibara did not remember it, and called his mother, but she had also forgotten it because she too referred to him by his aka; finally, she had to find his birth certificate to get the answer. Conflict also alters the administration of justice, since armed groups become the de facto providers of law and order in those areas. When conflict subsides and government imposes its legal system, the population finds it difficult to adjust: the community must learn to navigate a bureaucratic system where answers are not immediate and often not reinforced, and former fighters stop being the arbiters of disputes between locals. When former fighters continue to live in the same community, this transition can be traumatic because the local population continues to ask them to solve their personal problems and to rule over neighborly disputes; while former fighters, many of whom may be interested in maintaining the control of the population, sometimes for political purposes, are willing to provide this service. Tackling the environment must be a fundamental component of demobilization and reintegration programs in countries like Colombia, where criminal behavior is readily justified in many enclaves and where illicit enterprises have existed for extended periods of time. Only by tackling environmental and structural factors can a reincorporation program succeed in bringing former fighters to live crime-free and become productive members of society. However, that is an expensive and time-consuming task – and one

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that may challenge the interests of powerful people; thus it is unlikely to be undertaken. The city of Medellín provides a great example where the local government designed and enacted a comprehensive approach to reincorporation that extended to the family and the community of the demobilized. These city-wide programs address endemic violence by strengthening the presence of the government in vulnerable neighborhoods. Moreover, to avoid resentment among the population for the money spent rehabilitating former insurgents, the Mayor’s office offers comparable opportunities to youths who live in the same neighborhoods as the demobilized. As a result, homicides have fallen from 184 homicides per 100,000 inhabitants in 2002 to 26 in 100,000 in 2007.51

Conclusion The objective of this chapter was to discuss when and why disengagement initiatives are poised to succeed. I defined successful disengagement as the transformation of former insurgents into productive agents of society, who are not involved in criminal activities. I used the example of Colombia to explore three factors that may buttress the success of disengagement: the insurgents’ actual motivation to abandon an illegal lifestyle; the availability of a comprehensive and well-planned demobilization program that includes individualized socio-psychological assistance; and the development of initiatives that affect the environment and the networks of the demobilized. The post-conflict scenario in Colombia shows that ending violence is a challenge that goes beyond demobilizing fighters. It requires governments to make disengagement a priority. Available reincorporation data supports the hypothesis that fighters’ intention to disengage is correlated to abandoning an illegal lifestyle. Those who voluntarily choose to abandon an insurgent group and demobilize individually are more likely not to recidivate than those, such as the ex-AUC, who demobilize to follow an order, but may do so against their will. Available data also illustrates the importance of initiatives that affect the environment and networks of the demobilized. Disengagement can be an effective strategy for security when the reincorporation program is carried out in tandem with other social and developmental programs that weaken criminal networks and alter the values and world-views of those who are most vulnerable to being recruited in them, such as low-income youth, and those who are more likely to support recruitment, such as in environments where violence and conflict rates are rampant. The circle of violence may be most difficult to end in environments where criminal networks can easily tap into the pool of recently demobilized individuals whose skills and outlook remain unchanged. Indeed, available data also suggests that conceiving reincorporation initiatives in a comprehensive fashion may also boost disengagement success. Approaching the family and the community, stimulating socio-psychological initiatives, and providing individualized attention to former combatants in

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Medellín may well be the reason of the low recidivism rates in that city. However, preliminary data also suggests that more comprehensive programs may achieve only slightly better results than providing basic benefits alone, though the former involve much greater costs. Though this finding is still incipient, it should lead scholars and practitioners to investigate the impact of reincorporation initiatives further and comparatively. In conclusion, the decision to live according to the rule of law remains an individual one. Unfortunately, this is also the most difficult factor to control and influence from the outside. It appears that most demobilizing individuals are poised either to disengage completely or to remain involved in illegal activities, and that reincorporation programs may provide the most significant impact on those ‘in the middle’ who may be lured by the opportunities the government can offer. But if such is the case, and the goal is to maximize disengagement, then it is important that programs are well planned out, enacted in a timely fashion and in coordination with relevant local partners to ensure that as many individuals as possible remain actively involved in them.

10 Deradicalization and rehabilitation programmes targeting religious terrorists and extremists in the Muslim world An overview Richard Barrett and Laila Bokhari Introduction The international response in the immediate aftermath of the attacks in the United States on 11 September 2001, particularly in the West, was shaped largely by a desire to strike back and to improve defences against further acts of terror; it led to the development of a range of measures that were primarily designed to suppress terrorism rather than to undermine its appeal. The period was dominated by a sense that there was a finite number of terrorists and that their capture or elimination would remove the threat of further attacks. This muscular approach has given way to an understanding that some level of terrorism will continue to exist for many years and that policies pursued to eliminate terrorists may, if poorly thought out or clumsily applied, lead to the problem getting worse rather than better. Emphasis has shifted towards understanding and dealing with the reasons that people become terrorists; why a small number of otherwise ordinary individuals see violence as the best or even the only way to express their views. Coupled with this, the capture of many terrorists and their supporters has given rise to concern about their longer-term future; rehabilitation and reintegration issues have taken on added importance as the number of prisoners has increased and as prisons themselves have become major centres of radicalization and recruitment, allowing leaders to establish cells based on strong personal ties between hardened individuals who are already on the margins of society. In recognition of these problems, several states have begun to develop practical programmes aimed at countering the appeal of militancy, changing attitudes and getting repentant terrorists back into society. These programmes are increasingly seen as essential elements of an integrated counter-terrorism strategy. While acknowledging that each case is specific to its local cultural and political setting, increasing numbers of other states have shown a growing interest in benefiting from the general lessons provided by these early programmes.

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This chapter offers some general comment and an overview of some of the key elements of deradicalization and rehabilitation programmes as they exist today in the Muslim world. These examples, and the terms used to describe them, should not be taken to imply that it is only in Muslim countries and among Muslim communities that such effort is desirable or even required. The same principles may be applied to any individual or group of individuals that has seen violence as a way to resolve problems, whether personal or political, within a wider movement. The fact is that the Muslim world has been much quicker to see the need and value of designing such programmes, and the interested audience of other states is now mainly in the West. The examples cited represent just some of the national programmes that exist and should neither be seen as offering best practice nor as covering all possible approaches. As will be seen, some of the programmes are in their very initial stages of development or implementation, and are quite specific to the local environment, while others involve elements that seem important to all such initiatives. These include programmes which have an element of collective disengagement, involving groups of people rather than just treating the individual. Some programmes are better known than others, and some are discussed in more depth later in this volume. For all of them it is fair to say that they continue to evolve and adapt according to the knowledge of the people who run them and the reactions of those who pass through them.

Some general observations Terrorism itself has changed considerably since 2001, with much more radicalization and recruitment happening in the virtual world, and operational planning happening at a local level rather than being centralized and controlled by a recognized leadership. The investigation and capture of terrorists or aspiring terrorists has provided authorities with a far better understanding of the processes of radicalization than they had when the programmes began. The more successful ones have benefited from this, and have shown a commendable flexibility of approach with increasing emphasis on the wider and less openly acknowledged reasons that an individual may become radicalized. All the programmes discussed here work on the premise that they must address an element of misguidance, offering a form of ‘re-education’ based on a close examination of the narrative that the individual has accepted. But while this has become an important component common to all, the approach and emphasis differs between them. In almost all cases it is still too early to judge the long-term impact of these programmes. It is important to keep in mind what exiting terrorism really means. It may be a complete and final renunciation of violence, it may be a conditional renunciation, dependent on what happens next, or it may be a pragmatic and temporary renunciation based on the expectation of immediate benefit but without any fundamental change of attitude. The actual political setting and factors such as proximity to conflict may play a

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role here in that the intensity of suppressive measures may encourage a terrorist to give up, either because he realizes the hopelessness of his cause or because he decides to live and fight another day. Alternatively, there may have been sufficient political reform for the terrorist to believe that the issues of disenfranchisement and marginalization for which he fought no longer apply; or that whatever other rationale existed for his grievance has disappeared. Studies of individuals who have exited terrorism have sometimes shown that changes in the person’s life situation, such as family setting, marriage, etc. have brought about the change in behaviour.1 These lessons have also been brought into coordinated programmes. By focusing on the personal circumstances of the terrorist, a rehabilitation programme can encourage a family, peer and community-based involvement that locks him into another, more peaceful lifestyle. The individual may therefore have made a choice to disengage for a reason that has nothing or little to do with his conscious reasons for taking up terrorism in the first place. Indeed, some of those interviewed who have explained their decision to exit as personal and related to their current life situation, have spoken of continued passive membership or non-active engagement, by which they imply that should their situation change, or should they feel the call again, it will not be difficult for them to return to their old ways. But here lies an opportunity: these are people who are particularly susceptible to a system that recognizes that embracing terrorism can be an expression of a social need rather than purely the adoption of a political agenda. It appears to be quite common that many deradicalization and rehabilitation programmes find in their targets incipient feelings of disillusionment or desire for an alternative narrative. It is important to spot this as it offers an obvious basis to build on. The appeal of the terrorist message has begun to erode, particularly in the Muslim world, as the consequences of terrorism have become more evident. Deradicalization efforts can fairly point out that most victims of terrorism are co-religionists or come from the same community as the terrorists themselves, whether as direct victims of the attacks or of the repression or economic consequences that follow them. Also, the positive political results from terrorist campaigns have not been obvious. Many terrorists may therefore harbour doubts or misgivings about their radicalism at some level of consciousness, and the possibility of a new direction, reinforced by actual stories of others successfully building a new life after leaving a militant movement, can offer hope and a way forward. It has to be recognized, though, that violence is in itself an attraction for some, and such individuals may continue to seek other forms of violence after abandoning terrorism. Identifying and dealing with the motivator is therefore essential, as is recognizing the commonalities between terrorist groups and other types of violent cults or gangs. Any discussion of radicalization should examine what processes people go through to become sufficiently radicalized to take up violent means. Different push and pull factors will apply. Analysis of the argumentation and

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decision-making processes involved, at both an individual and a group level, offer useful material when designing a reverse procedure. There may be similar processes and avenues both for radicalization and deradicalization/ disengagement. Radicalization to violence happens by stages, some of which may trigger a change beyond which there may be less chance of return, or for some, no return at all. Indeed, some highly experienced counter-terrorist officials are firmly of the view that once a radicalized individual crosses into violence, there is no point in trying to rehabilitate him, and that any appearance of rehabilitation will be deceitful and short-lived. Also worth noting is that people take on different roles in a militant organization; some may take on a very passive role and not want to, or not have the capacity to go further or to get more involved. Others may be impatient to be as active as possible, and not care too much about justification or target. By taking a closer look at the different roles played by members of an organization it is possible to design approaches that match the characteristics and specific motivations of the individuals concerned; it may also be possible to identify certain types that are more vulnerable and more inclined towards change than others. These are issues that many programmes also consider. There is growing appreciation in the counter-terrorism environment that there is a broader value and need to draw lessons from dealing with people who have joined terrorist groups or participated in terrorist acts, both with a view to bringing them back into society and to enlisting their help to dissuade others from taking a similar course. Providing examples for further international discussion can help states develop their own programmes and identify similarities and differences, pointing out both what can work and what may not. It is clear that one size does not fit all, and success in one setting may not necessarily be replicated elsewhere. Some programmes will be culturally specific and some will emphasize certain aspects within a political context. Much depends on who the actors are and the level of the conflict and, importantly, society’s (the victims’) readiness to forgive. In examining the programmes, it appears that some States have welldeveloped and rather broad initiatives while others employ a case-by-case approach. Many are in the process of developing their programmes, and are seeking lessons from other countries. The best-developed programmes (mostly targeting detained terrorists, sympathizers and support personnel) rely on a number of mechanisms, such as: 1 2 3 4 5

the role of a go-between who can influence the terrorist (often from family or peer group); ideological tools (such as counter-fatwas, dialogue with well-known imams and muftis); repentant terrorists taking an active part; social measures (facilitating economic and social reintegration of the repentant terrorist); some form of continued/subsequent monitoring to avoid recidivism; and

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Leaving Terrorism Behind emphasis on family and peers, both as a support group and as a group towards which the repentant has responsibility, as a father, son, husband, friend, etc.

Perhaps even more important than attempting to rehabilitate people who have already stepped over into terrorism, and certainly complementary to rehabilitation efforts, are programmes that target individuals in the process of becoming terrorists. It is often hard to spot such individuals and requires an awareness and concern on the part of the community and, more especially, the family and others in the person’s immediate circle. Information from repentant terrorists may also be of value. Programmes in which individuals considered to be at risk are invited to retreats where they can communicate informally with officials to examine grievances, beliefs and alternative solutions so as to avoid further radicalization may provide useful lessons for wider application at a national or international level. Equally important is the role that successfully rehabilitated (and properly repentant) individuals have played in providing security authorities with valuable insight into the workings of terrorist organizations, including methods of recruitment, which otherwise might have remained impenetrable. Any government-run programme is likely to suffer from the disadvantage that its targets will see it as closely associated with the enemy and be slow to trust its intentions. However, as the programmes develop, and produce advertisements of success to which other militants can relate, they will gain credibility. But there are also programmes designed and run by nongovernmental organizations or societies, some of which may be governmentsponsored. Here the role of civil society and different forms of victims groups can assume particular importance. While all programmes have achieved progress, even despite growing experience it is still too early to say with any certainty that any have been fully successful. There are no established criteria of success and no standards that apply across cultures. States are still reluctant to publish objective statistics, although they are increasingly willing to discuss their experience on a bilateral basis. This may remain the case for some time, not only because success cannot be judged by a mere declaration of repentance without any longer-term evidence of sincerity, but also because most programmes recognize that, faced by exactly the same arguments and influences, each individual will react differently. As more militants are taken into the programmes and more complete them with a need for follow-up, the resources required will cause more people to ask whether they are worthwhile. In all countries that run such programmes, there are people who argue that imprisonment or even execution for acts of terrorism may have a quicker, more effective and cheaper deradicalizing effect than the soft approaches adopted by the programmes. To this extent, widespread international support for the programmes, and discussion of their elements and objectives, will be important for their continued development.

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Examples of projects and programmes Below is a selection of existing programmes.2 They are different in form and outreach, but they have certain characteristics in common. This is not an exhaustive list and the programmes themselves are not described in depth, nor are they evaluated for their effectiveness. Some have received a fair bit of publicity and are already well recorded; others are less well known. All are current programmes which form a part of broader coordinated national efforts to reduce radicalization and promote rehabilitation and disengagement. While almost all have developed according to the particular nature of the local terrorist threat, and all have changed over time according to experience and circumstances, they may yet provide pointers to what works and what does not. There are, broadly speaking, four types of method used within the programmes. As will be seen, some of the programmes are single-method programmes, while others take a more comprehensive, multi-method approach: 1

2

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Re-education and rehabilitation based on providing a different truth to undermine the terrorist narrative and deconstruct the ideology on which it is based. This is the war of ideas against violent extremism in which various tactics have been seen, from media and information campaigns, the use of clerics to challenge religious assertions, the use of youth heroes as alternative influences, and/or the use of former terrorists speaking out against their rejected beliefs. It may also include dialogue with extreme radicals, especially those in prisons, and among religious personalities and/or elders. The Saudi example of this (see chapter 13 of this volume) is perhaps the best known and while it may represent a very Saudi solution to a Saudi problem, incorporating many traditional (national) methods of conflict resolution and conflict management, it is not without imitators.3 Indeed the Saudi authorities are aware that their experience may be of direct relevance and value to other states. In Egypt too there has been considerable success in encouraging radical leaders to rethink their views (see chapter 7). The public rejection of terrorist violence in late 2007 by Sayyid Imam al-Sharif, a former leader of the Egyptian Jihad group and ex-colleague of Ayman al-Zawahiri, is just one of the many recantations of note by Egyptian extremists.4 The creation of space and opportunity to vent frustration outside terrorism has also found a place in some disengagement and deradicalization programmes. A resort to violence may be seen in some instances to result from a lack of other means to express grievances or dissatisfaction. Creating space where disaffected groups may meet, express and organize themselves through non-violent means is an underlying feature of, for instance, the Tajik Secular-Islamic dialogue project (Tajikistan). Programmes that provide an alternative lifestyle may also take into account the need to relocate a repentant terrorist for security reasons, or to remove him from malign influences. Such programmes also aim to

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Leaving Terrorism Behind build hope for the future by providing education or a job, helping the individual to marry, re-engaging him with his family and so providing basic support for the future and creating new reference points. Establishing a sustainable livelihood and both social and financial networks are important factors in most programmes. They are also seen as key factors to avoid recidivism. Amnesty programmes take the above to another level where a certain kind of forgiveness is offered by society (or certain parts of society), providing a new start and helping people reintegrate into their community. In some instances these programmes also provide protection against possible acts of vengeance from victims or non-repentant group members. Some programmes also include elements of restorative justice by bringing victims into the process and giving them a recognized role, often also allowing them to confront their persecutors. The issues of amnesty and reconciliation in these cases, however, depend very much on the scale of the violence, the cultural context and the legal traditions of the society concerned. These programmes, such as in Algeria, do not include people guilty of major crimes such as mass murder or rape. Other programmes may not exempt people who are serving a prison sentence.

In addition to the above, most prison-based programmes have also placed a special focus on the most radical and most militant elements. This may include isolation from other prisoners, a lack of privileges enjoyed by less radical elements, especially those in the rehabilitation process, or other mechanisms that send a message that terrorism is not under any circumstance acceptable and will be punished. The Moroccan strategy takes this approach. Another way of underlining that terrorism is beyond the tolerance of society is to emphasize the extremism, criminality and egregious violence of non-repentants against a template of normal society and behaviour. Afghanistan – Takhim-e Solh – the strengthening the peace programme5 The Afghan programme known as Takhim-e Solh (Strengthening the Peace – PTS) is very much a product of the unique history and political composition of the country. It combines elements of a rehabilitation project with those of a national reconciliation initiative. The programme is a Government of Afghanistan initiative to undermine the insurgency and to reintegrate former combatants into Afghan society. The participants are mostly former Taliban combatants, but not exclusively so. While the PTS incorporates an outreach programme, those who join have to make contact and sign up on a voluntary basis; they may often do so through tribal or other intermediaries. Those who wish to participate do not receive amnesty but they agree to stop all action against the Afghan Government, to accept the constitution and to abide by the law. The PTS was first introduced by President Karzai in February 2004.

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Since then he has appointed a National Independent Commission for Peace and Reconciliation, led by Professor Sibghatullah al-Mojaddedi, to support his call for Afghan insurgents to return to their homes and take part in the reconstruction of their country. The programme offers basic services and protection to those who come forward. Often they come in groups, and with their entire families. In the Afghan tradition, those entering the programme generally do so very publicly, turning in their weapons and making a formal declaration. In theory, their tribe acts as guarantor of their future behaviour. One key element of the programme is the need to provide protection, whether from other insurgents or from former enemies. But as the numbers increase the Government hopes that the insurgency may be split by weaning away those who merely seek a better life, or harbour some manageable grievance, from those who are die-hard opponents of the regime, whether for ideological or other reasons. The fluid nature of Afghan politics presents particular challenges to the PTS, but the respect with which Professor Mojaddedi is held personally, and his determination to ensure that insurgents know that there is an escape route should they wish to take it, has kept the programme alive, and a steady trickle of insurgents continues to join. Yemen – the Yemen Committee for Dialogue6 The Yemen Committee for Dialogue was established in August 2002, when the President of Yemen, Ali Abdullah Saleh, gathered together senior clerics who subsequently formed the nucleus of this enterprise. The process involves two steps: first dialogue between the clerics and the militants, and then the reinsertion/reintegration of the former militants into society. Sessions between appointed clerics and militants discuss ideological themes, unfolding the narratives and questioning the religious assumptions on which they are based. Furthermore, reintegration into society is seen as essential so as to avoid recidivism, and the programme puts considerable emphasis on the second step of helping the individual to find a job, receive education, or even to find a wife. The Committee offers assistance on all these fronts. The Yemeni programme is discussed in more detail in chapter 11 of this volume. The Philippines – the resettlement of MNLF7 A very different case of rehabilitation is the government-run programme in the Philippines, mainly directed at the Muslim National Liberation Front (MNLF) rather than the several other militant groups that have a presence there. The programme is managed by the Ministry of Interior, and focuses on creating new communities for former MNLF militants (predominantly Tausugs from Jolo island in the Sulu archipelago) who have given up and renounced their armed struggle for independence and accepted the Philippine nation-state. The programme has mainly been a group effort, engaging whole communities and extended families. Interestingly, the foundation of the new

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communities has involved the resettlement of the fighters and their families from their homelands to other islands in the archipelago. Tajikistan – the Tajik Secular-Islamic dialogue project8 The Tajik Secular-Islamic dialogue project is a government-run project which was created in 2003. The programme has largely been facilitated by the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), but run by the Tajik Commission for National Reconciliation. The dialogue project has involved representatives from various groups, both religious and secular. Through regular sessions, representatives have sought means of coexistence and to identify and discuss issues that create mistrust and tension. A key rationale behind the initiative is to create an environment for discussion and establish meeting places where issues can be raised, and, as trust develops, solutions found. The programme is seen as successful to a large extent, but it is criticized by international observers for being government-run, only involving moderates, and therefore not reaching out to those that should be included.9 However, the programme does provide a useful platform for dialogue among the various groups that constitute Tajik society. While the Tajik case is special in terms of a history of civil war, much of Central Asia presents particular problems for a political dialogue in that opposition is frequently cast as extremist or separatist. This has led to those who oppose the governments or their programmes finding few outlets to express their opposition and the Tajik dialogue project may also be seen as a counter-radicalization initiative as well as a deradicalization initiative. Indonesia – Government-backed deradicalization policies10 A relatively recent Indonesian initiative was announced in February 2007 when the country’s Parliament backed government deradicalization policies aimed at stopping the creation of hard-line religious groups and countering terrorism.11 Lawmakers urged the government to focus on poverty alleviation and unemployment projects. At the same time, emphasis was put on the need to deny radical groups and terrorist networks the opportunity to develop and spread propaganda material to recruit members in the name of religion. Mainstream religious groups have been instrumental in promoting these initiatives, united in preventing radical elements from inventing a religious justification for terrorism. The programme is dealt with in detail later in this volume (chapter 12) but one notable feature that reflects the nature of Indonesian society is the close personal involvement of senior police officials.12 Singapore – religious rehabilitation programmes13 Singapore has placed a particular religious focus on its programmes.14 The first stage of the process has involved counselling within prisons, seen to be a

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major staging post for both first-time radicalization and sustained radicalization. The programmes initially engaged Jemaah Islamiyah (JI) detainees and their immediate families but have been extended into the wider community, involving other family members, community leaders, elders and religious personalities. As with other programmes in South East Asia, the role of the family is seen as almost more important than any other factor and reconnection with family is often a persuasive element in deradicalization. Malaysia In 1960 Malaysia passed an Internal Security Act (ISA), Act 82. The ISA was enacted pursuant to special emergency powers under the Federal Constitution to counter the communist insurgency, subversive elements and threats prejudicial to national security. Under the Act the Malaysian authorities are required to conduct re-education and rehabilitation initiatives focused on correcting political and religious misconceptions. Importantly, the detainees are carefully monitored after release.15 Most parts of the rehabilitation programme (also covered in chapter 12) are designed and conducted by the Police and Prison Department in collaboration with the Department of Malaysian Islamic Development (JAKIM). For those detainees who have shown a positive response and have renounced their militant struggle and ideology, there is then a special intensive programme, which is finally followed up by an observation and evaluation programme to ensure that the detainee is fully rehabilitated. Saudi Arabia – changing a narrative16 Some of the most recent, best-known and successful rehabilitation programmes have been launched by the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. The Saudi programmes have had a heavy educational and ideological focus and a key element has been countering the narrative with the help of clerics and through the internet. The Saudi Government has since 2003 been engaged in work to counter the al-Qaeda ideology through educational programmes in the mass media, through university curricula, and through repentant terrorists and extremists who negotiate and argue with potential recruits on relevant websites and in other media. Two large-scale projects using this approach are under way. The first is a counselling programme for radical prisoners. The other is the al-Sakinah (tranquillity) campaign, which aims to initiate online dialogue with extremists in an effort to lead them to renounce their views. In parallel the Saudi security authorities have worked with repentant terrorists to identify other militants and to ensure their speedy capture. A more detailed analysis is offered in chapter 13 of this volume.

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Other programmes not covered There are a number of other programmes and initiatives omitted from this brief survey. For example, Algeria launched a national reconciliation programme following a referendum in 2005 and Bangladesh has established a disengagement programme that claims success in rehabilitating hundreds of militants. In Egypt the action leading to the collective disengagement of the two main terrorist groups (Islamic Group and Jihad) contains important elements of a disengagement programme. Outside the Muslim world, several European countries, like the United Kingdom and The Netherlands, have also developed deradicalization programmes.

In search of a comprehensive counter-terrorism strategy The key to any successful rehabilitation initiative appears to be engagement with the individual, addressing both his way of thinking and his circumstances. Many of the current rehabilitation projects focus on the need to challenge the narrative of extremism and/or deconstruct the story being told. The narrative, whether created as a result of national circumstances or through a perversion of religion, has been instrumental in both the structuring and the deconstruction of the struggle. Media and information campaigns involving persons of respect, often elders, clerics or other role models, have been essential tools. Coupled with this has been the need to provide a sustainable future for those who decide to return to society. Various amnesties have been offered, most importantly involving some protection against vengeance. This is an area which could do with further study. In some cases, both in collective and in individual cases of disengagement, there is a need to isolate the people involved, providing them with new lives and new identities. Finally, although most people who have passed through a deradicalization programme have distanced themselves from the use of violence as a political weapon, they may yet remain sympathetic to the cause. This may mean that they are willing to seek alternative, legal methods to reach their goals, which the state should ensure are available, but further monitoring of their activities and attitudes is sensible. The main aim of any deradicalization, rehabilitation and disengagement programme must of course be to prevent further acts of terror, whether directly by the person concerned or through his influence. Carefully designed and conducted programmes can also help enlist repentant terrorists to dissuade others from taking a similar course. Furthermore, successfully rehabilitated individuals can provide counter-terrorism officials with valuable insights into the workings of terrorist organizations, and can thus be seen as adding further to the overall counter-terrorism strategy.

11 Opening up the jihadi debate Yemen’s Committee for Dialogue Christopher Boucek, Shazadi Beg and John Horgan

Introduction The Republic of Yemen is regarded as one of the first Muslim States to consider and openly acknowledge dialogue with militants as a central component in any counter-terrorism strategy. A core argument, developed and implemented in Yemen, was that terrorist operations are founded on ideology, both religious and nationalist, and that the bases of these could legitimately be opened up to debate. In fact, even prior to 2002, Yemen had been associated with a variety of innovative approaches to counter-terrorism. Some of these approaches sought to buy the loyalty of tribal sheikhs and the UN-sponsored ‘sheikhs against terror’.1 According to former Prime Minister Abdulkarim al-Iryani, the central government paid millions of dollars to Yemeni tribes in order to purchase loyalty and to deny refuge to extremists and militants.2 However, in 2002, perhaps the most widely known and controversial initiative began. An unorthodox new approach to deal with detained extremists and militants became known as the ‘Committee for Dialogue’. The programme is widely recognized as one of the very first efforts at prison-based deradicalization, and emerged from a variety of initiatives aimed at encouraging imprisoned violent Jihadists to renounce their allegiance to their militant group. The public face of the Committee’s efforts is Hamoud al-Hitar, a former Supreme Court Justice who has claimed that 98 per cent of ‘graduates’ from the programme have remained non-violent.3 This chapter provides an overview of this and similar innovative approaches to counter-terrorism in Yemen, and provides some background on the acrimony and controversy that now surrounds this initiative.

Overview of jihadism in Yemen The history of Yemeni involvement in militant activity, at home and abroad, is both long and multifaceted. A significant number of Yemeni nationals participated in the Afghan jihad against the Soviet occupation,4 while throughout the 1980s Saudi-backed Islamism was increasingly used as a tool to suppress domestic opponents.5 Both during and after the Afghan conflict,

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thousands of Yemenis were believed to have travelled to Afghanistan.6 Unlike other regional states, the Yemeni government not only allowed Yemeni nationals to return, it also encouraged other foreign fighters to settle in Yemen.7 Foreign veterans of the Afghan war – the so-called Arab Afghans – were welcomed to Yemen, many of whom were even permitted to settle there.8 According to a declassified State Department intelligence report prepared in August 1993, Yemen was ‘becoming an increasingly important waystation [sic]’ for Arab Afghans.9 Upon their return to Yemen, these fighters were co-opted by the regime and incorporated into security structures close to President Saleh. From 1990 to 1994, these forces were used against the Yemen Socialist Party, reportedly including the assassination of Aden-based politicians.10 In a ‘marriage of convenience’, President Saleh aligned with the religiously conservative Islah party who in turn ‘mobilized its Islamist grass-roots, many of whom were veterans’ of the Soviet jihad.11 These fighters, including the paramilitaries created by the regime, were deployed during the April–July 1994 civil war against southern secessionists, a process facilitated by the regime’s characterization of the socialist Southern forces as apostate.12 Many Islamists and jihadi veterans from the Afghan war subsequently fought on behalf of the north with hopes of establishing an Islamic state. The government, however, did not deliver once fighting had ceased.13 As a consequence, many of these fighters would eventually turn on the regime on whose behalf they had fought.14 In short, they ‘found they had been used by Saleh to dispose of his rivals, and were then being disposed of themselves . . . many of the Afghan-Arabs were hoping to establish a theocracy that reflected their Islamist leanings’.15 The regime’s relationship with Islamist militants soon soured as a result. Following the return of the Arab Afghans, Yemen experienced a series of terrorist attacks. In the earlier 1990s, a series of small attacks were directed against multiple targets, including western interests, churches and government facilities. The most well known of these attacks was the December 1992 bombing at two Aden hotels which killed several bystanders. The bombs were intended to target American soldiers believed to be billeted there en route to Somalia, deployed in support of Operation Restore Hope.16 Also in December 1992, a group of militants were captured at Aden airport ‘preparing to launch rockets’ at American aircraft.17 Six years later, in December 1998, militants associated with the Islamic Army of Aden-Abyan were apprehended on charges of planning to attack the British embassy in Sana
a, as well as churches and other American interests in Yemen. In an effort to seek their comrades’ release, the IAAA, led by founder Zain al-Abidin abu Bakr al-Midhar, kidnapped 16 western tourists. Four hostages and several kidnappers were killed in a tragic rescue attempt by Yemeni forces. AlMidhar, better known as Abu Hassan, was tried and found guilty and was subsequently executed in October 1999.18 Terrorism in Yemen escalated in 2000. In October of that year the American destroyer USS Cole was attacked in Aden harbour as it refuelled, killing 17

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sailors and wounding a further 39. The attack took place nearly to the day of the first anniversary of Abu Hassan’s execution. The Cole was making its first refuelling stop at the Yemeni port when two attackers pulled alongside the warship and detonated their explosives. The attack on the Cole had its origins in the May 1998 visit of the USS Mount Vernon and a failed plot against another American warship, the USS The Sullivans. The attack against The Sullivans was scheduled to coincide with simultaneous attacks in Jordan and at Los Angeles International Airport at the turn of the millennium. The Sullivans was spared when the terrorist’s explosive-laden boat sank under its own weight. However, in October 2002 – also near the anniversary of abu Hassan’s execution – the French oil tanker MV Limburg was similarly bombed off the coast of Yemen in the Gulf of Aden. The attack killed one crew member and wounded several more. An estimated 90,000 tons of crude oil was spilled as a result of the attack20 and the resulting insurance increases led Singapore Port Authority to withdraw from the Aden Container Terminal management agreement.21 Furthermore, also in 2002, three American missionaries were shot and killed at a Southern Baptist missionary hospital in the town of Jibla.22 From the bombing of the Limburg in October 2002 until 2006, Yemen enjoyed a respite from terrorist attacks and it was during this period that the Dialogue Committee was established and worked to engage with militants detained in Yemen. At the time, the relative lull in violence in Yemen and the absence of any major attacks by violent Islamists contributed to the belief that the dialogue process was working successfully. A number of factors, however, contributed to the return of terrorism in Yemen, including the 2003 invasion of Iraq, the February 2006 prison break of seasoned al-Qaeda militants, and the emergence of a new generation of extremists uninterested in forgoing violence in Yemen. The invasion of Iraq and subsequent occupation has had a galvanizing effect in Yemen. Increased radicalization has been accompanied by sizeable numbers of Yemenis travelling to Iraq in order to fight against coalition forces. According to one analysis, Yemen has been a ‘leading source of foreign fighters in Iraq.’23 Gregory Johnsen has identified al-Qaeda’s February 2006 prison break as the onset of a split between the older, cautious cadre of al-Qaeda in Yemen and a younger faction, radicalized through fighting in Iraq and committed to striking against the state, and uninterested in negotiating with the state.24 This more rigidly dogmatic cohort, hardened by their experiences in Iraq, has rejected the concept of dialogue with the regime and has equated patience and negotiation as a ‘treasonous alliance with tyrants.’25 Unlike their older comrades, the younger generation of al-Qaeda has refused dialogue and pursued violence and martyrdom in order to advance their cause. In February 2006, 23 al-Qaeda suspects escaped from a high-security facility in Sana
a, including individuals wanted in connection with the 2000 USS Cole bombing and the 2002 MV Limburg bombing.26 It is believed that escape

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was facilitated – at least in part – by security officials,27 and a dozen PSO officers were later convicted for complicity in the break-out.28 This was the second prison break involving al-Qaeda suspects in Yemen. Ten men broke out of an Aden prison in April 2003, including several of the alleged Cole bombers who would escape in 2006. Several months after the 2006 escape, two of the escapees died in separate near-simultaneous car bombings of oil installations in Mukhalla and Marib on 15 September 2006. In December of that year a lone gunman was killed outside the US embassy in Sana
a as he fired at the facility. Recent attacks have for the first time targeted Yemen’s tourist sector. A suspected al-Qaeda car bombing in July 2007 killed eight Spanish tourists and two Yemenis near the famed Bilquis Temple in Marib. A second attack against tourists took place in January 2008, in which two Belgians and two Yemenis were killed in Hadramaut. The resurgent second generation of al-Qaeda in Yemen has claimed responsibility for all of these attacks, including the March 2008 mortar attack in Sana
a which targeted the American embassy, but instead hit a neighbouring girls’ school.

The Committee for Dialogue: background and context Following the September 11 terrorist attacks, the Yemeni government engaged in dialogue with all those arrested on suspicion of involvement with al-Qaeda. President Saleh, in a public statement, said, ‘We have a group of young people who hold dangerous beliefs. Those people have not committed any crime, but if we leave them on their own, they could cause great harm to themselves and to the country. We need to talk to them.’29 Establishment of the dialogue committee 30 At the inauguration of the sixth annual party conference of Yemen’s ruling party General People’s Congress on 24 August 2002, President Ali Abdullah Saleh announced his intention to form a dialogue committee.31 Several days later, on 30 August 2002, Saleh convened a private meeting of senior ulema to discuss the establishment of the dialogue programme.32 Also present at this meeting were a number of senior government officials, including the prime minister, the vice president, the speaker of parliament, and the deputy of the Supreme Judicial Council. At this meeting the president described the need to engage in dialogue with young men who had returned from Afghanistan and other Islamists because they held dangerous beliefs which could translate into violent extremism. Urgency was further demonstrated when Saleh revealed that rockets and explosives had recently been discovered that could have destroyed half of Yemen’s capital city, Sana
a. During this meeting the Committee for Religious Dialogue was established and the Committee’s objectives were set.33 President Saleh did not engage in the substance of the Committee’s formation. The Council of Ulema held two subsequent meetings on 2 September 2002

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and 4 September 2002 to choose the members of the committee. According to former Supreme Court Justice Judge Hamoud al-Hitar, a number of the ulema expressed apprehension at the idea of engaging in dialogue with extremists for several reasons. First and foremost were concerns for their physical safety: the ulema agreed that there would be no dialogue with those who had been involved in killing because the Yemeni clerics believed that a senior Egyptian cleric had been killed who had tried to initiate a dialogue with extremists in 1977.34 An important second reason was that some of the detainees did not recognize the legitimacy of the Yemeni ulema, and considered them to be kufr (infidels). In the end, the only person advocating engagement and interaction with the detainees was al-Hitar; the 14 other assembled clerics were not in favour of participating in the dialogue sessions. Despite the warnings of the ulema that he was putting his life at risk, al-Hitar has stated that he decided to proceed because he ‘considered that the dialogue was important both for religion and for protecting the country’.35 On 15 September 200236 the Committee, consisting of Judge Hamoud al-Hitar and three other ulema, met for the first time with prisoners at the Political Security Organization Center.37 In its first meeting, the Committee met with five detainees, described by al-Hitar as being the ‘the most intellectual and the most extremist al-Qaeda prisoners’.38 The detainees included Nasser Ahmed Nasser al-Qadhi39 and several other men. Al-Hitar recounts that he was advised by security officials to remove his jambiyya (traditional dagger) in case he was physically attacked by detainees. However, he refused, noting the cultural dishonour this would incur, and responded ‘that if I am killed with my own weapons then I do not deserve to be here’ speaking with detainees.40 At the first meeting, after introducing themselves, the detainees responded by rhetorically questioning whether there were any legitimate ulema in Yemen, and adding that if there were righteous ulema in the country, then the detainees would not be in prison. The detainees further accused the Committee members of being regime flunkies, and of being afraid of the detainees. Al-Hitar acknowledged that the ulema in Yemen had not been doing their job properly and added that the Committee members were there because President Saleh had instructed them to conduct a dialogue with the detainees. It was explained to the prisoners that the dialogue process was an all-ornothing endeavour, and that the detainees should attempt to convince the Committee members that their interpretations of Islam were correct in the same way that the ulema would work to persuade the detainees that their understanding of Islam was correct. Judge al-Hitar put it simply when he told National Public Radio, ‘We tell them, if you are right we will follow you, but if what we are saying is right, you have to admit it and follow us.’41 At the first meeting, it was mutually decided that the Qur
an and the Sunnah would form the basis of the dialogue.42 The hadith provided an essential foundation for the dialogue sessions, in light of the fact that the Prophet himself favoured dialogue wherever possible even with his arch-enemies.43

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After this was established, everyone present at the first session took an oath on the Qur
an and affirmed their intention to work faithfully with God’s blessing to achieve the truth and to respect each other’s opinions. The detainees had agreed to participate in the dialogue process. This act has been credited with establishing mutual credibility and can be considered one of the factors that legitimized the dialogue process. Security officials have been reported to have been very surprised that the detainees agreed to participate in the dialogue process. After their participation was secured, al-Hitar offered the detainees two options on how the dialogue process could be conducted, either through direct dialogue or indirect dialogue. Direct engagement would be oral discussion and involve a verbal back and forth dialogue, while the indirect process would be conducted in writing, thereby resulting in a much longer procedure. The detainees chose direct dialogue. Before substantive matters were discussed, al-Hitar presented the detainees with an agenda, which included the ground rules for the dialogue and the subjects to be discussed. After being given an opportunity to amend or add to the agenda and guidelines, the dialogue process began. The dialogue rules and ethical guidelines for the discussion were as follows: Dialogue rules:44 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Credibility/competence of the dialogue Identification of the dialogue target Identification of the dialogue subject Identification of the terms and references in case of dispute Giving the opportunity to both parties to discuss its subject Organize the dialogue according to main subjects and minor subjects Choose the right place and right time Prepare the suitable environment for the dialogue as regards the time, the place and the people Follow the scientific method in the dialogue Look for the truth and avoid pre-judgement Differentiate between the absolute texts and the unreliable texts, and also diligent texts and personal legal opinions Acceptance of the outcome of the dialogue.

The Ethics of Dialogue:45 1 2 3 4

Mutual respect between the two parties Accept multiplicity and commitment to disagreement ethics Freedom of expressing the point of view Equality in speech, using revision and references and avoid boring long speech and interruption 5 Good presentation by using good phrases 6 Good listening and respect of the opinion of the other

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Self-control and avoidance of negative reaction Being patient, honest and humble Considering the feelings of the other and avoiding irony Being subjective and organizing ideas according to their subjects The argument shall be supported by evidence and conducted in a friendly way Resorting to the agreed referential and commitment to its verdict Being fair and avoiding fanaticism and prejudice Starting with the agreed subjects Using moderate tone Admitting wrong and accepting what is right.

The first issue discussed in the initial dialogue session was brought up by the detainees. They asserted that Yemen was not an Islamic state and that the government was pro-Western, which the detainees argued meant that the state was fundamentally inimical to the interests of the country’s Muslim population. Al-Hitar responded by producing copies of the Constitution and penal law for the detainees to inspect. He stated that not only do the laws not contradict the Qur
an or the Sunnah, but if the detainees could effectively demonstrate how Yemen’s laws were at odds with sharia, then the government would amend its laws. After close examination of the Constitution and penal law, the detainees could find nothing that ran contrary to sharia. The next issue discussed was Yemen’s international treaty obligations. The detainees objected to some of the country’s international treaties, but when challenged to find anything within them that was un-Islamic they were unable to do so. Al-Hitar related to the detainees that even the Prophet Muhammad had engaged in treaties with Christians and Jews. The legitimacy of the regime and the legality of President Saleh’s rule was also discussed at length. The detainees asserted that the regime was illegitimate. They further argued that the regime lacked legitimacy as Saleh did not govern as a caliph, nor was he ‘chosen by reasonable and mature leaders of the society’.46 In a lengthy and laborious session, al-Hitar sought to prove to the detainees that the current Yemeni government was legitimate and that its head of state must be recognized as a leader. A leader commands the obedience of the population. When challenged to show where in the Qur
an it was mandated that the head of state must be a caliph the detainees could not. AlHitar explained how the president was elected and reasoned that ‘influential and intellectual people in society have no right the exclude’ the rest of the population in choosing a president.47 Al-Hitar argued that President Saleh was elected by the majority of voters, and that the election represented the will of much of the population. Nothing in the way that Yemen had chosen or empowered its leadership, the Judge proffered, was against anything in the Qur
an. This argument led the detainees eventually to accept the legitimacy of the president and the manner in which he was chosen. From this position, it was accepted that obeying the head of state was an obligation. Al-Hitar has

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explained that other more intellectually savvy detainees convinced their comrades that once one accepts that a legitimate ruler must be obeyed, it follows that one ‘accept[s] everything else’.48 He has credited this as the key to the dialogue process and the breakthrough that led to the effective disengagement of many detainees from terrorist activity. Another topic of discussion was the permissibility of killing non-Muslims. The detainees began from the premise that they were kufr, and argued that such actions were allowed. Al-Hitar replied that this was wrong, and that it was forbidden to spill blood, regardless of religion. He elaborated by explaining that the Qur
an clearly states that killing can only be justified with a rightful reason, related to circumstances of war or oppression, where people are prevented from practising their religion and are driven out of their homes. This was buttressed with further explanation, such as the historical observations that Muslim armies did not kill women, children, the elderly or Christian priests. Attention was brought to the fact that only one verse in the Qur
an authorizes Muslims to fight non-Muslims, and such actions are only permitted in self-defence. Compulsion in religion, al-Hitar related, was not sanctioned in Islam, and any act taken under duress is inadmissible. An example was given of the Prophet, who stated that he was ordered to fight because he was fought against. Al-Hitar argued that foreigners in Yemen have the protection of the Head of State through a covenant in the form of a visa, and it is therefore not permissible to attack them. The programme made it clear that those who renounced violence would be eligible to participate in an amnesty programme established by President Saleh.49 Judge al-Hitar indicated that it was the government’s intention initially that individuals who had engaged in serious offences of violence would be barred from the amnesty programme.50 Judge al-Hitar has acknowledged, however, that once the programme started some of the participating detainees were in fact individuals who had killed people in various terrorist attacks. These individuals were recognized as having a more acute need for rehabilitation to prevent them re-offending. It was decided that those convicted of murder would be required to complete their sentence prior to release. There were also many detainees on the programme who had not been charged with nor convicted of any criminal offence but were deemed to have been in contact with and sympathetic to jihadi militants. Al-Hitar has also conceded that a number of detainees have escaped from custody. A total of 364 detainees were released through the programme after completing the dialogue process.51 Participants have ranged in age from 18 to about 40 years.52 According to the Yemeni government, approximately 90 per cent of those that took part in the programme were born outside of Yemen to Yemeni parents. It has been alleged that many of these individuals were also radicalized abroad, in Saudi Arabia and in other countries, and many of the detainees had spent time in Afghanistan and/or Pakistan. According to the government, detainees were well treated during their incarceration, and this fact contributed to the success of the programme. Furthermore,

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according to Judge al-Hitar, Yemeni returnees from Guantanamo Bay, subsequently imprisoned in Yemen, have not participated in the dialogue process.53 It has been noted that detainees were required to sign a document testifying to their renunciation of their previous beliefs in order to be released through the dialogue programme. Interior Minister Rashad Muhammad al-Ulaymi has explained that an individual’s signature or verbal expression to renounce violence was only one of several factors taken into consideration.54 In addition, it was also required that a detainee’s ‘family and tribal members’ vouch for the released individual, and in a sense, be responsible for them.55 Upon release from custody, participants in the dialogue programme were monitored by the authorities, typically for a probationary period of one year.56 This was done through a special committee within the National Security Bureau. According to Foreign Minister Abubaker al-Qirbi, the Yemeni intelligence and security agencies were charged with supervising released detainees, and a number of those released through the programme were given positions with the military and security forces in order to better keep tabs on them.57 Judge al-Hitar has stated that some of the released detainees spoke with others after their discharge in order to convince them that terrorism and violence were unacceptable in Islam.58

Assessment and effectiveness The dialogue committee was essentially designed to achieve several goals. These included achieving the detainees’ recognition of the sovereignty and Islamic legitimacy of the Yemeni government and getting the detainees to abstain from committing violent acts within Yemen. The government also sought to ensure that the detainees would not target westerners or western interests in the country. These were the primary deliverables that the dialogue programme sought to achieve. On these issues, the dialogue committee has achieved relative successes. To this end, however, it has been charged that the regime was less interested in actual ideological engagement and more concerned with political expediency, as it was under pressure to show the US that it was a reliable ally.59 Several observers have suggested that the dialogue sessions were not so much concerned with equality of engagement as geared towards securing the detainees’ acquiescence.60 It is widely accepted that following the September 11 attacks, the American government exerted considerable pressure on President Saleh to round up suspected militants, including those who had travelled to Pakistan and Afghanistan, those suspected of involvement in the bombing of USS Cole (however indirectly) and others believed to have been involved in extremist activities. Many of these individuals, as stated, had not committed any crime in Yemen, nor had they been charged with any offences. As such, it has been

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suggested that the Yemeni government, through the Committee for Dialogue, was not only actively looking for a way to address the problem of extremist views but also to justify the release of the detainees and to secure their allegiance to the Yemeni state.61 A number of critics have alleged that the dialogue process was hampered by the fact that it was undertaken in prison. This has been said to have contributed to a sense of inequality and an atmosphere unconducive to dialogue, discussion and debate. While human rights observers have noted that there was no independent mechanism to oversee the programme,62 to its credit the committee did seek to establish credibility and gain trust as a result of taking an oath on the Qur
an. This step has been credited with encouraging the detainees and the Committee to be truthful and forthcoming. Nonetheless, success in these circumstances was always bound to be relative and highly context-bound. Another factor that must be considered when evaluating the success of the programme is the repeated sense of grievance experienced by the detainees. Many programme participants felt aggrieved that they had been arrested unjustly and then further wronged in prison by the treatment they received from the government. These grievances were further compounded when they felt ‘forced’ into participating in the ideological dialogue process in order to be released from detention that many of them felt they should never have been pressed to experience in the first place. After release, many detainees had been promised employment opportunities and other forms of assistance. When some of these promises of after-care assistance went unmet, some detainees felt even further victimized. Some observers have noted that the dialogue process represented a unique innovation. This perception was supported by the view that the process should continue even once detainees have been released. Furthermore, the dialogue process might have gone further had a greater portion of society been involved in the process, perhaps in a public debate. Judge al-Hitar has stated that the programme was able to reform about 40 per cent of jihadis.63 He recognized early on that, although some detainees had memorized certain suras or verses of the Qur
an, they found it difficult to interpret those very verses and could not in many cases refer directly to sharia sources. In the opinion of Judge al-Hitar, the most dangerous group in Yemen with which to enter into dialogue are the Houthis, a Zaidi Shia sect who consider themselves to have the divine right to knowledge. According to one observer, the regime had prior good relationships with all of those who had participated in the dialogue programme.64 The President allegedly met each detainee prior to release and asked him to support his reelection. The relationship between the regime and the jihadis is a complicated one, with so many push and pull factors that some individuals are considered to be playing dual roles. Despite this the government is generally considered to have lost control of al-Qaeda cells in the country. A source of continuing controversy is the case of Jamal al-Badawi, who was sentenced to death in

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2004 (which was commuted to 15 years on appeal) for his involvement in the bombing of USS Cole.65 The US has a $5 million bounty on him and it is widely considered that his surrender to the State Security was on condition that he is not extradited to the United States. On 3 February 2006 he escaped from custody alongside 22 other al-Qaeda prisoners. This was his second escape from prison, the first being in 2003 in Aden. Yemen does not deny that a deal has been cut with him, despite the fact that he did not go on the dialogue programme. The perception of rushed and often unfair trials of some detainees who were denied access to lawyers66 has cast doubt on whether defendants were properly indicted or convicted in the first place and whether the state acquiesced in their ‘escapes’. It is generally acknowledged that even if an accused is acquitted, he can be taken back to the Political Security Centre which is under the control of the PSO. Yemen’s real challenge has been battling against those former firebrands such as Sheikh Abd al-Majid al-Zindani, who regarded himself as a hardliner within the Islamic Party, and believed that jihadis need not repent (he has since moderated his views). A further challenge exists between the younger generation aged between 16 and 24 who consider that violent jihad is permitted inside Yemen, where the government has allied itself to the US, and that it can also be undertaken in Iraq and Afghanistan, where there is an illegal US occupation. Some have evaluated the programme as ‘buying peace for money’ because when payment was delayed for some detainees after release, they complained to the press and then made terrorist threats.67 Further evidence of this is provided by the reports of at least two former detainees who underwent the programme but then went on to conduct jihad in Iraq and were subsequently killed. The issue of Yemen’s relationship with the war in Iraq has attracted particular criticism from the US. It can, however, be argued that if the US has acknowledged the drop in the number of foreign insurgents in Iraq as a result of the Saudi programme for disengagement, then it follows that a refining of the Yemen programme – with structural adjustments – may also yield positive results. Judge al-Hitar has made it clear that there is only one verse in the Qur
an that permits Muslims to fight non-believers as an act of self-defence against oppression. It is likely to be the case that more focus on this issue in a wider public debate could open a dialogue on the legitimacy of fighting a jihad in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Yemen’s relationship with the US has been made more complex by the latter making economic reforms a condition of aid. Moreover, there is little understanding that in parts of Yemen tradition is stronger than religion.68 Where the released detainees have had family or community support it has resulted in high-value intelligence being provided to the authorities, which in turn has resulted in the capture of important targets such as Mohammed al-Ahdal, the alleged mastermind in the bombing of the USS Cole. In addition, civil society has begun debates inside mosques on issues not only of terrorism but also on political and civil rights. The legitimacy of Yemen’s

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‘private prisons’, run by tribal chiefs (also known as ‘hostage prisons’) as well as the Interior Ministry, to keep hostage the families of escapees have been successfully challenged by the Ministry for Human Rights, and as a result, have begun to be abolished.69

Conclusion Nabil al-Sofee, a former member of the Islamic Party and the Muslim Brotherhood, now chief editor of The News Yemen, stated: People will revise their ideas when they listen to rational debates which are well reasoned and articulate. Mobilization and radicalization only happens because of what goes on in closed rooms where people are isolated from the views of others. Despite the criticism, the programme should be extended to the millions out in the streets who need to have dialogue . . . Clerics mobilize people for jihad and yet never go for jihad themselves and live in comfortable houses. For ten years we only had one voice to speak on jihad . . . no one looked into the thinking of those who went to Afghanistan and the process by which they were indoctrinated until now. The success of the dialogue programme is the fact that people are now beginning to debate how and why people have joined terrorism. Yemen’s Committee for Dialogue programme has attempted to engage, understand and challenge the mindset of the extremist. As Judge Hamoud al-Hitar acknowledged from the outset, jihadis have a value system and all terrorist operations are founded on an ideology. After what appears to have been a temporary suspension of the programme, it has restarted as of May 2008. Although the Yemen programme has been criticized for concentrating on improving its own internal security situation, it would be difficult to overestimate the influence of the Yemeni initiative and its related counter-terrorist efforts can be felt in different countries where attempts to debate ideology and critically engage detainees are now becoming a standard practice.

12 The rehabilitation of Jemaah Islamiyah detainees in South East Asia A preliminary assessment1 Zachary Abuza There have been more than 400 members of the regional terrorist organization Jemaah Islamiyah (JI) and affiliated groups arrested or detained across South East Asia since mid-2001.2 The legal response to JI has differed in Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore and the Philippines. While Indonesia deserves credit for arresting and trying some 300 individuals, the legal record in the Philippines has been poor, while Malaysia and Singapore have relied on their colonial-era Internal Security Acts (ISAs) that allow for indefinite detention without trial. A cornerstone of the Malaysian, Singaporean and Indonesian counter-terrorism programmes has been a programme of disengagement and religious rehabilitation. As the head of Indonesia’s counter-terrorism efforts, General Ansyaad M
Bai, told the BBC: ‘We shouldn’t see these radical groups as black and white. “Oh, they are terrorists so we have to fight them whatever the means and they are terrorists for ever.” This is the key. In our experience, no one could be a terrorist forever.’3 As an official of Singapore’s rehabilitation programme put it: ‘We believe in rehabilitation. No one is born a terrorist. No one wakes up one morning and says I’m going to be a terrorist. It’s indoctrination.’4 Just as there is a process to becoming a terrorist, there is also a process of disengagement from the militant group, though that should not be equated with deradicalization. These disengagement programmes are not blanket amnesties, though Indonesia has released some members as part of its annual criminal amnesty programme. These programmes can and should be a component of a state’s counter-terrorism programme for three reasons: to discredit terrorist organizations and their justifications for violence; to convince others not to join terrorist groups; and to immunize Muslim society in general. All three governments have claimed a degree of success, though Indonesia’s is really less of a programme and more of an ad hoc process run by different individuals and organizations, compared to Malaysia and Singapore, which have well-thought-out, holistic and well-resourced programmes that coordinate the work of several different ministries and organizations. But in all three cases, the results are somewhat mixed, and there is also very little transparency regarding these programmes. With few exceptions, the governments have not allowed independent journalists or researchers to meet with the detainees

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and interview them freely. In the Malaysian case, a few ISA detainees have ‘given interviews’ but they were clearly stage-managed. In all cases, there is the continued threat of coercion or return to prison. And in some cases, there is evidence that early releases have been motivated by politics. There have also been a few instances of recidivism. There has also been no collective disengagement: all the people covered in this study entered rehabilitation programmes after they were arrested. There has been no large-scale voluntary disengagement that we know of, though it is clearly likely because all terrorist organizations experience ‘drift’. Moreover, the experience in South East Asia shows that there is a very strong and positive correlation between the success of the rehabilitation and the limits of one’s role in the terrorist organization: those engaged with violence are far less likely to be deradicalized or disengaged than supporters or members of logistic cells. This chapter will focus on the programme of deradicalizing individual JI detainees, and not the equally important strategy of delegitimization and deradicalization of societies being conducted by the states and moderate Muslim clerics. It will also not discuss either the rehabilitation or demobilization of members of Philippine and Thai insurgent groups. By disengagement, what we really mean is altering the behavioural component of their radicalization, not necessarily the cognitive radicalization; i.e. a rejection of the violent means but not the ends. Many of those ‘deradicalized’ remain committed to the goals of JI in establishing an Islamic state and the imposition of sharia. Disengagement does not necessarily mean deradicalization. Many of those who have been ‘rehabilitated’ and released remain committed to the goals of the movement and the establishment of an Islamic state. There is always the question of the risk that these people pose to society: can they slip back into terrorist organizations? The success of such disengagement is driven in large part by societal attitudes: will former terrorists be welcomed back into society, or will they be treated as outcasts? In Malaysia and Indonesia, whose societies have become far more religiously conservative and pious in recent years, and which have a panoply of legal organizations and civil society committed to pursuing an Islamist agenda, there will be a strong desire to welcome these members back in. Indeed large segments of society will not believe that they did anything wrong in the first place. The success of the disengagement programmes will also be determined by the resources that the individual state commits to the programme: does it entail simply counselling programmes or is it a more holistic programme that includes job training and placement, subsidies to the family, in order to ensure that JI’s social networks do not fill the void caused by the absence of the family’s breadwinner, etc.? Malaysia and Singapore are wealthy states, with a smaller pool of detainees than Indonesia.

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JI’s ideology, theology and organization Before delving into the disengagement process, we need to briefly note JI’s ideology and theology. JI is a radical Salafist jihadist organization with some degree of affiliation to al-Qaeda. It was founded in 1992 on the principles of being a clandestine organization (tanzim sir) committed to turning Indonesia and the rest of Muslim South East Asia into an Islamic state (Nusantara Raya).5 Its ideology was focused on the concept of distinct in and out groups, beyond Darul Islam and Darul al-harb. They focus on the concepts of al-wala wal bara (loyalty and non-loyalty), in which they pledge bai
ah, an oath of allegiance to their spiritual leader or amir. They engage in takfir, i.e. labelling other Muslims as apostates and infidels, and hijrah, or migration and a total disassociation from non-Muslims or apostates. It instructs members to live in parallel and exclusive communities governed totally by sharia. The ideology is based on a literal interpretation of the Qur
an and Sunnah. They have broadened their definition of a defensive jihad, and believe that the killing of westerners is justified because Islam as a religion is under attack and Muslim lands are being occupied; Muslims who are killed collaterally become martyrs. Jihad has an explicitly violent connotation, and to them is Mawlana Abu ala Malwdudi’s ‘sixth pillar of Islam’. JI’s ideology encourages and praises isytisyhad, or martyrdom, and promises the rewards of jannah (paradise) for those who die carrying out Allah’s deeds, especially through istimata, or suicide attacks. It is a vehemently anti-Western organization that justifies its attacks and targeting on the West’s aggression towards the Muslim world. The ideology is outlined in a 1996 document, the Pedoman Umum Perjuangan al-Jama
ah al-Islamiyyah (General Guidebook for the Struggle of Jemaah Islamiyah), known as the PUPJI, which outlines the group’s organizational and ideological principles, based on the Egyptian Gamaaat Islamiyah. Beneath the amir is a shura – council, and four regional groupings, or mantiqis. Beneath the mantiqis are wakalah and individual cells or fiah. JI has two paramilitary arms, including the Laskar Jundullah and Laskar Mujihidin, an overt civil society arm, the Majelis Mujihidin Indonesia (MMI), affiliated charities and several smaller splinter organizations. JI is not a large organization, thought to be only several thousand people, with roughly the same number as part of its ‘support base’. But if we think of the hardcore militants, there are probably only several hundred. By their very definition, terrorist organizations are elite, rather than mass-based. For their survival, such groups have to be highly selective about who they take into their ranks. JI recruitment is based on four primary factors: kinship, mosque, madrasa and friendship; in short, recruitment is based on trust. JI has carefully bound its members together through kinship, in some cases recruiting whole families (see, for example, Noor Huda Ismail, ‘Al Qaeda’s Southeast Asia, Jamaah Islamiyah and Regional Terrorism: Kinship and Family Links,’ The Asia-Pacific Journal: Japan Focus at http: //www.japanfocus.org/_Noor_Huda_Ismail-Al_Qaeda_s_Southeast_Asia__

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Jamaah_Islamiyah_and_Regional_Terrorism__Kinship_and_Family_Links). Where familial networks do not exist, JI has promoted marriage among members’ families, creating kinship bonds that reduce the likelihood of infiltration.6 Malaysian intelligence concluded that more than 100 marriages ‘involving families of key JI leaders’ comprises the core of the organization’s membership.7 Indonesian investigators think that JI’s kinship network is even larger: ‘[That] figure is just the tip of the iceberg. We believe the number of marriages involved is certainly much higher judging from the information we have continued to gather.’8 Captured JI leader Mohamed Nasir bin Abas has argued that this was a coincidence rather than an over-arching plan. He denied that there was a rule that JI members could only marry into JI families or that there was a marriage of convenience programme, yet his own family is deeply interconnected.9 But the high level of interconnectedness of members may affect the rate of rehabilitation. In-group solidarity and mistrust of all outgroups make JI a very cohesive organization. Unlike left-wing groups that were riddled with factionalism and ideological splits, JI was fairly cohesive through 2003. While it is unclear to what extent the spouses were fully-fledged JI members, women are active in JI, though not in operations or leadership. Women are involved in fund-raising, accounting, providing shelter to JI members, and teaching and propaganda at JI-run madrasas. Anecdotally, many of the women are more radical than their husbands. In addition to financial and kinship ties, mosques play an important role in JI. While there are no specific, central mosques that have been epicentres of JI recruitment, JI ‘talent scouts’ look for pious Muslims of a certain age who come to pray five times a day, every day. They are invited to private ‘study sessions’, in which they are slowly indoctrinated. Religiosity is the paramount trait that the JI leaders look for in their recruits. For example, Ali Imron spoke of the Al Fatah Mosque in Maluku as a centre for indoctrination and recruitment.10 We know JI has established several madrasas in order to recruit and educate new members. Several of these have now been shut down, though none in Indonesia.11 However, Indonesian intelligence and police officials are studying the entire network of graduates of Abu Bakar Ba
asyir’s Al Mukmin (also known as Ngruki) pesantren (Muslim boarding schools). In all there is a network of some 60 to 100 pesantren that Indonesian security forces believe are used for JI recruitment, most of which are run or staffed by Ngruki alums.12 When Indonesian investigators raided a JI safe house in Solo in late 2002, they found a list of 141 Islamic schools in Java that detailed which would be the most susceptible or could be primed for recruitment. It is unclear the degree to which JI actively tried to penetrate these schools. It is important to note that JI has been able to recruit across the socioeconomic and educational spectrum, and its ranks are comprised of middleclass, secularly and technically educated individuals, as well as people with nothing more than a Qur
anic education. Many low-ranking JI members

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come out of the sectarian conflict zones of the outer islands, in particular the Malukus and Central Sulawesi, but there is no single profile of a JI member. There are vast age disparities among JI members, from youth trained in their network of madrasas or who have experienced jihad in the sectarian bloodletting, to middle-aged professionals. In general JI members from Mantiqi II are younger, while many in Mantiqi I, which had a greater role in fund-raising for the organization, was comprised of older, middle-class professionals. Despite concerted counter-terrorist operations, and the arrest of much of its founding leadership, JI remains a remarkably resilient organization. Though it is operationally weaker than it was in 2002, it is by no means defeated, though it is clearly in regrouping mode. Arrests of senior leaders Nu
aim and Abu Dujana in June 2007 and a trove of documents found showed that JI has become a much more horizontal organization, focused on Indonesia and emphasizing sectarian conflicts. The leaders also revealed that JI members are determined to continue forward despite the arrests and recent setbacks. ‘We will continue fighting and we may use other methods,’ Abu Dujana told CNN in a jailhouse interview. ‘If they refuse [to let Muslims rule], we’ll continue doing what we are doing.’ He warned that the group was dynamic and quickly re-organized, ‘It [JI] will continue to exist and continue to move on with its plans . . . When a part of it is cut off, [in this case] the head is cut off, there will be a replacement, it’s only natural.’13 While JI’s shift to a more horizontal organization comprised of autonomous cells has clear ramifications for counter-terrorist operations, it is not known how it will impact the disengagement process. For example, does that autonomy lead to a breakdown in discipline and commitment to the cause?

The theological dialogue model The three rehabilitation programmes in Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia are all loosely modelled on the ‘theological dialogue’ programme employed in 2002 by the respected Islamic jurist Hamoud al-Hitar in Yemen. Some 400 militants were released after undergoing debates on how their actions were not sanctioned by the Qur
an, and admitting that they had been misled or had applied an incorrect version of Islam. Justifications and rationales for violence were refuted with Islamic scripture. While Jihad was not condemned, the clerics focused on ‘correct jihad’ and ‘incorrect jihad’ as well as the issue of who has the authority to issue fatwas. The Yemen model, however, was quietly scrapped by Yemeni authorities in 2005 because of high rates of recidivism, but also because the context of the ‘dialogue’ had changed.14 The first generation of militants had fought in Afghanistan, and tended to respect the religious authorities, while current militants are fighting the Yemeni government and see the clergy as co-opted and unworthy of respect.15 Moreover, many of the Yemeni clergy refuse to label the conflict in Iraq, which is drawing many Yemeni militants, as an incorrect jihad, but see it as a legitimate struggle to rid a Muslim land of an

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infidel occupier. Roughly 200 members have been re-arrested, as many of them saw the dialogue as a means to get out of prison. The model adopted by Saudi Arabia is explored in another chapter (chapter 13), but one issue to note about the Saudi model, which should have important implications in South East Asia, is the active use by members of the rehabilitation committee of the detainees’ family members. They use the appeals of family members and allow regular visits to their detained relatives as an important component of the programme.16 The Saudi Arabian programme is comprehensive and involves everything from job training and placement, to providing stipends to the detainees and their families, finding released detainees apartments, and even matchmaking. It is hard to imagine the South East Asian states dedicating such resources to their programmes. There is legitimate concern in both Yemen and Saudi Arabia, that the prisoners simply are saying anything they can to get out of prison. The choice of entering the rehabilitation programme versus the prospect of indefinite detention or execution is a compelling one. The Saudi Arabian programme has a team of nearly 30 psychologists to help weed out insincere militants.17

Indonesia Indonesia, the world’s largest Muslim country, was hit by a series of terrorist attacks from 2002 to 2005 and, since then, more cells and caches of weapons and explosives have been uncovered. Indonesia alone has arrested more than 300 members of JI, and its intelligence officials have been surprised at how much larger and embedded JI is than they expected at first. Indonesian police have used disengagement as a component of their counter-terrorist operations, but not surprisingly, the programme is underfinanced, understaffed, and not terribly institutionalized. Indonesia does not have a ‘programme’ in the way that Malaysia and Singapore have, that is institutionalized, coordinated across various ministries and organizations, and well resourced. The Indonesian programme has been publicly centred around one individual, Nasir bin Abas, the former head of JI’s Mantiqi III and head of military training in the southern Philippines who became disillusioned with the al-Qaeda (AQ) campaign of terror against soft Western targets, in particular the 2002 Bali bombing that killed 202 innocent civilians, mainly western tourists.18 Upon his arrest he not only provided a trove of intelligence on JI and its operations, and continues to assist police in their investigations, but has also helped the police in developing a strategy to disengage members of JI. He has tried to do so through not only his own interpretation of Islam, but by using his own authority as a senior member of JI. Nasir bin Abas has even published a book aimed at discrediting JI and the AQ-influenced leaders.19 Yet, Nasir was already disillusioned with JI’s means when he was arrested. Nasir has recounted that one of the reasons for his turn of heart was his surprise over his decent and humane treatment by the police, who treated him in a very Islamic manner.20 He was not beaten or tortured, but instead invited

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to pray with the police during interrogation sessions, thereby undermining JI’s assertions that the government was murtad (apostate). Importantly, Nasir turned state’s witness in the high-profile trial in 2004 of JI’s spiritual leader, Abu Bakar Ba
asyir. Many JI detainees have rebuffed Nasir’s entreaties.21 (There is also anecdotal evidence that JI members have considerable respect and authority in Indonesian prisons.) Another JI member who has joined the INP’s efforts at disengagement is Ali Imron, the brother of two other convicted Bali bombers, Mukhlas and Amrozi. Ali Imron has recanted in many fora, ‘I will continue to ask for forgiveness from the victims and their families, from any affected by violence in which I was involved. I will never stop acting forgiveness.’22 Ali Imron says that he is writing a book countering JI’s ideology and that he produces cassette-sermons to be used at his family’s East Java madrasa. However, his unrepentant brother, Mukhlas, in a fraternal war of ideas is likewise sending his writings and sermons advocating violent jihad to the madrasa.23 There is very little public information on this programme.24 To date, the Indonesian effort has been ad hoc, and only recently part of a larger institutionalized effort. In February 2007, in seeming recognition of the programme’s initial success, the Indonesian parliament backed a deradicalization programme. But that, it seems, was less about the police’s disengagement programme and more about ‘root causes’ such as poverty alleviation. The INP’s disengagement programme is woefully under-resourced. As Sidney Jones described the disorganized programme in Indonesia: ‘Police have been drafted into service. They are de facto psychologists, social workers, etc.’25 Despite this, Indonesian counter-terrorism officials assert success. Senior Superintendent Tito Karnavian, the head of intelligence for the elite counterterrorism unit Detachment-88,26 explained that following the first arrests of the 2005 Bali bombing cell, former members of JI who were cooperating with authorities, such as Nasir bin Abas, spent nearly a week with the detainees before police interrogators were given access to them. ‘When their Islamic argument is already defeated, then it is easy for us. Then we enter.’27 This is truly remarkable: former JI members are leading the government’s efforts and have considerable autonomy in this process. What has helped the Indonesian police is that people like Nasir were senior leaders, as South East Asians tend to be very hierarchical and consciously respectful of and deferential to authority. Of the 300 people arrested in Indonesia, including 50 people in leadership positions, some 10 to 20 have been rehabilitated and are actively cooperating with the government. ‘We can use them,’ Tito Karnavian said. ‘They respect seniority very much.’28 Karnavian said that there is an attempt to make the process more formalized, and that the police are going to madrasas and working with clerics and the quasi-official Ulema Council of Indonesia (MUI).29 Clerics and leaders of the Nadhalatul Ulema and Mohamidiyah are also active in countering militant ideology. There is also an attempt to better fund the programme. In

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2006–7, the Indonesian police began to provide some support for detainees’ families. This has had a dramatic impact and the ICG concluded that the ‘economic aid, however, is ultimately more important than religious arguments in changing prisoner attitudes’.30 One of the reasons that the programme is gaining some results is that many of the Detachment-88 leaders are deeply religious. Detachment-88’s chief, Brigadier General Surya Dharma, has led prayer sessions in prison, and many JI members have been surprised at their fair treatment during police custody. Often interrogation sessions are stopped for prayers. This treatment undermines JI’s narrative that the regime is murtad and abusive towards Muslims. The ICG, however, notes that pervasive corruption and mismanagement of the penal system in Indonesia have done much to undermine the success of the deradicalization programme: [T]he task is made infinitely harder by a lax prison regime where jihadi prisoners band together to protect themselves against inmate gangs; where hardcore ideologues can and do recruit ordinary criminals and prison wardens to their cause; and where corruption is so pervasive that it reinforces the idea of government officials as anti-Islamic.31 The success of Indonesia’s disengagement programme is limited. In 2007, of the roughly 400 people who were offered counselling – including both detainees and their families – only 20 took advantage of disengagement counselling.32 Few really have an incentive to do so as prison sentences in Indonesia are so short. Since 2002, there have been more than 150 members of JI who have been released, including 60 in 2006–07 alone. They are often released through general amnesties – and many of those jailed have received significant remissions.33 For example, ten of the 33 individuals arrested in conjunction with the 12 October 2002 bombing on the resort island of Bali, Indonesia, had their sentences reduced as part of the annual national Independence Day amnesty (54,000 criminals had their sentences reduced) in 2005. One, Puryanto, who was arrested for harbouring some of the bombers, walked free as a result of his three-month remission. In total 12 of the 33 have been released – and if one excludes the three death sentences and one life sentence, 12 of 29 (41 per cent) have been released. Indonesian courts have cracked down hard on ringleaders of bombing plots but have been remarkably lenient in terms of individuals in support and logistical roles, despite calls by prosecutors for harsher sentences. One person who studied bomb-making under Dr Azahari, Bambang Tutuko, was released after being held for just one day in 2003.34 But it is hard to tell if the remissions were specifically because the detainees had recanted and had taken to religious counselling well, or whether they were just part of overall general and routine amnesties, or released because of political pressure from Islamists in parliament,35 or as a reward for turning state’s witness. Indonesia’s justice system does not have a system of parole. To date,

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there is no evidence that those who were released in general amnesties had actually disengaged or had been rehabilitated. Indonesian security forces have always had decent human intelligence capabilities, so it is not unlikely that they have tried to recruit some of those released as informants, though it is impossible to prove. Indonesia has been under significant diplomatic pressure for its early releases of people charged with terrorism-related offences and light sentences meted out to many. The Indonesian government is under intense diplomatic pressure to amend the law, which would not allow people convicted for terrorism-related offences to be eligible for early release. It recently announced new regulations in which prisoners will not be eligible for remissions until they serve one-third of their term. Until recently, all prisoners have automatically received sentence reduction at least twice a year, which can halve their jail terms. Indeed, in October 2007, it was announced that ten people arrested and charged with their involvement in the 2005 Bali bombings, which killed 20, would get remissions of one to one and a half months for good behaviour.36 It should be noted that JI, itself, is not a criminal organization and mere membership in JI will not lead to arrest.37 Senior leaders, such as Mustaqim, who have been detained, were released because Indonesian authorities could not directly link them to a specific terrorist incident. It is unlikely that the government will proscribe JI, due to the potential political fall-out. The government has also allowed JI leaders to enter into the arena of social services, and there is evidence that JI is adopting a Hamas-like strategy of using social welfare networks to regroup.38 As leaders of JI, such as Abu Bakar Ba
asyir and Muhammad Iqbal Rahman (Abu Jibril), have distanced themselves from violence in favour of da
wah, social welfare, and proselytization through an array of media outlets,39 this could have a very important impact on the disengagement and rehabilitation programmes: many members may be willing to renounce violence and follow the path of their superiors.

Singapore Between December 2001 and January 2008, Singapore has placed 73 individuals in one of three categories for terrorism-related offences under the Internal Security Act. Under the ISA, there are three categories of detainment/ restriction: orders of detention, suspension direction, and orders of restriction.40 Singapore’s ISA controversially allows for preventative detention if someone is deemed to be a threat to national security. Some 55 members of JI were placed under orders of detention, while 18 individuals were immediately issued orders of restriction. As part of its counter-terrorism efforts and its coordinated public campaign to counter radical ideology, the Singapore government made an early commitment to religious rehabilitation of JI members. On 23 April 2003, the government founded the Religious Rehabilitation Group (RRG) to provide religious counselling for detainees and their families. The Singaporeans based

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this programme on the Yemeni government’s ‘theological dialogue’, developed first in the 1990s, that targeted the veterans of the Afghan Mujahidin.41 The Internal Security Department (ISD) approached Singapore’s Association of Muslim Scholars (PERGUS), which had drafted a 27-point ‘Charter of Moderation’, as well as the Islamic Religious Council (MUIS) at first for support in counselling the detainees in mid-2002. This programme grew in ambition and scope, to a fully-fledged programme of trying to ‘negat[e] misunderstood theology’.42 Originally 20 religious leaders volunteered their efforts; and at present some 40 volunteer their services, supported by a group of psychologists. The government has invested heavily in their training and most counsellors have graduated from a seven-month programme in counselling psychology.43 The Religious Rehabilitation Counsellors now include 16 ustads and five female religious teachers.44 They are a dedicated group of individuals, committed to the mission at hand, and cognizant of the challenges they face. The RRG claims that between 2003 and mid-2007, it held more than 800 individual counselling sessions. The RRG has also extended counselling to detainees’ wives, who tend to be as ideologically indoctrinated as, if less militant than their husbands. Since May 2005, it has held more than 100 family counselling sessions for the wives of detainees. The Singapore government has also used its vast resources to make sure that the families of detainees have a steady source of income and that their children attend school so that the families do not have to rely on JI’s social networks. In May 2003, the RRG issued a manual on rehabilitation work to counter JI’s ideology, and one member, Ustaz Muhammad Haniff Hassan, has written a book, Unlicensed to Kill: Countering Imam Samudra’s Justification for the Bali Bombing.45 The book is a very in-depth study and point by Qur
anic point repudiation of the writings of leading JI ideologues. In 2007, the RRG moved into the realm of collective disengagement, and published Fighting Terrorism: Preventing the Radicalization of Youths. From what the RRG has publicly revealed about their programme, they focus on five key issues. • • • • •

The aspects of extremism; The misinterpretation by the jihadis of certain Islamic concepts and principles; The relationship between Muslims and non-Muslims, and how Muslims could live in multi-ethnic societies which may be dominated by nonMuslim lifestyles; The applications of jihad and sharia; Anti-Western sentiments.

The core of their programme is based on the notion that the detainees have been misled and have an incorrect understanding of Islam.46 The RRG has tried to introduce certain non-literal principles especially,  Ulumul Qur
an

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(Sciences of the Qur
an) and  Ulumul Hadith (Sciences of the Hadith), adab (ethics), and a broader contemporary contextual interpretation. The Singapore Government has claimed success in this programme,47 and the number of released JI members in the security conscious city-state bears this out. Of the 71 charged under the ISA in connection with terrorism, 55 were placed under orders of detention (OD), while 18 individuals were simply issued orders of restriction (OR), which require the individuals to meet with parole and religious counsellors on a regular basis and restricts their travel and movement. By January 2008, 18 of the 55 (33 per cent) had been placed on orders of restriction. Nine individuals were released from OD to SD status.48 Thus of 73 people detained in CT operations, 44 (60 per cent) have been freed from prison, though still under OR or SD. Seven of those individuals did not have their OR extended and were freed unconditionally.49 This is an impressive rate of success, especially in the case of dealing with hardline and heavily indoctrinated jihadis. With the exception of the two people who were placed on OR within a month of their orders of detention, the other 19 people who had their status shifted from OD to OR served an average of 51 months, just over four years, before being released. The five longest terms were 72 months, one served 54 months, three served 49 months, five served 47 months, four served only 37 months and one served just 24 months. The Singapore government, in announcing releases or changes of detainee status under the ISA, makes clear that the individual was ‘cooperative’ and ‘responded well to religious counselling’. Part of their success could be due to a few factors. First, few were operational terrorists. The vast majority played a support role, including fund-raising. Second, and related to that, the average age of the Singapore detainees was 39, well above the normal age for most terrorists. Most were employed and were married with families. Third, since most were funders or logistical personnel, they were actually detained for crimes that probably would not get them arrested in Malaysia and Indonesia. To date, Singapore’s success has been made possible by the resources of the government both in terms of personnel and financial support to put together a comprehensive programme. It is also made possible by the sheer size and capabilities of its security services, which continue to monitor former ISA detainees. The small size of Singapore and its few ports of entry make it very difficult for former detainees to go underground. But there are clearly limits to Singapore’s programme and they will never deradicalize all of the violent jihadis. The Government’s 2003 White Paper on JI had a very telling passage: The detainees had also expressed remorse and regret for their actions to varying degrees. However, the [ISA] Advisory Board also observed that many of the detainees tended to downplay their involvement in JI and their awareness of the consequences of their actions, even though the evidence showed otherwise. In their interviews by the Advisory Board, a

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One detainee told the Advisory Board that the arrests were ordained by God: ‘God did not will the attack to happen and predestination cannot be overridden,’51 but he remained convinced that attacks were justified against the US and its allies. He remains under Orders of Detention. There are clearly many other hard cases. If we delve into the analysis a bit more we see that only seven people detained in the first cell of 13 that was arrested in December 2001 to January 2002 have been released from OD, but that two of them were placed on OR almost immediately after their arrest and four served six full years. One person is still on SD. Of the first cell arrested, only one of the 13, Faiz bin Abu Bakar Bafana, who provided video testimony in the 2003 trial of Abu Bakar Ba
asyir, went from OD to OR after four and a half years. Half of the first cell remains unrepentant. Of the 21 detained in August and September 2002, three were immediately given OR. Of the 18 others, five eventually served SD, and eight were put on OR after serving over 44 months on average. A total of 37 individuals were detained between October 2002 and January 2008;15 were immediately placed on OR (12 were the same cell/ group) while 22 were placed under OD. Only four of those 22 have had their status shifted. The high-profile escape of Mas Salamat Kastari from ISA detention in February 2008 also suggests that not everyone is willing to engage in counselling sessions. In February 2007 and January 2008, authorities arrested five men for plotting to engage in violence against Singapore, though the two were ‘homegrown militants’ and not members of a formal organization such as JI.52 Three were placed on OD, while the other two, who simply assisted with some of the logistics of travelling to Afghanistan for training, were put on OR.53 It is unclear at this time whether self-radicalized ‘home-grown’ militants who were radicalized on the internet will be any more difficult to rehabilitate, or easier because they are not part of a tight ‘in group’. There has been significantly more transparency about Singapore’s reeducation programme than Malaysia’s, especially following the August 2007 launch of their website (www.rrg.sg)54 and it has been presented in a more coherent manner than Indonesia’s. For one thing, the Ministry of Home Affairs announces releases, changes in status and renewals of charges in a timely manner on their website.55 For another, some of the people involved in the programme have given briefings about the religious rehabilitation programme, though they have not gone into any specifics. Their briefings focus on the generalities and are very vague on individual cases, or where they have been unsuccessful. The Singapore government asserts that their experience has been positive and has conducted training sessions for the Malaysians and Indonesians, as well as helped the US military develop their own rehabilitation programme in Iraq.56 Through the International Centre for Political Violence and Terrorism Research at Nanyang Technological University, where

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much of the RRG research and analysis is conducted, Singapore has shared its experience with New Zealand, Australia, the Philippines, Indonesia, Bangladesh and a number of European countries. It is important to note that this rehabilitation programme is an essential part of Singapore’s counter-terrorism efforts, in particular as an attempt to prove to the Malay Muslim minority (15 per cent of the 4.2 million population) that the predominantly Chinese city state is not anti-Muslim. The government must show that Muslims can be active and productive members of Singapore society. Disengagement is a key component to a broader public deradicalization strategy. Beginning in 2006, the RRG began an active and publicized campaign of pre-emptive deradicalization in mosques and madrasas; a clear expansion of their original mission. The RRG and Ministry of Home Affairs have also provided more practical assistance to detainees and their families. Beginning in 2005, the Inter Agency Aftercare Services Group and religious leaders who volunteer their time, working with the RRG, began to provide assistance to detainees’ families. Social workers from the Ministry of Home Affairs have provided counselling as well as help in securing employment for detainees upon their release.57 There are four identifiable problems or limitations with the religious rehabilitation programme. The first has to do with the RRG personnel. Some of the leading religious figures in the programme are Suffis, who are considered a fringe sect by Salafi jihadis. The breakdown of the clerics by their religious orientation or school of Islamic jurisprudence has not been publicly disclosed, however.58 Second, and more importantly, many of the terrorists will see these religious leaders as being co-opted by a non-Muslim (kaffir) state, and thus not true Muslims. They are clearly establishment figures, trusted by an infidel regime, dominated by ethnic Chinese. That is a huge obstacle for the RRG to overcome. Third, Singapore is a quasi-authoritarian state, and many detainees who have been released may not have recanted but have been deterred by threats of further arrests and the understanding that they will be under constant surveillance. Fourth, the Singapore programme also differs from Indonesia’s, where former JI members are the ones doing much of the rehabilitation. This indicates that there is less trust towards their rehabilitated detainees by the Singaporean authorities. Singapore has also not allowed them to meet freely with the media or academics. Singapore, as a Muslim minority state, unlike Indonesia and Malaysia, is in a more precarious position, and as such highlighted its rehabilitation programme so as to appear that it is not anti-Muslim. In sum, though, Singapore’s programme seems successful and deserves further study.

Malaysia While Malaysia has not experienced any terrorist attacks by JI, it is the country where JI was born and incubated for over a decade in the mid-1980s and 1990s. Like Singapore, the Malaysian government has not put anyone

206 Leaving Terrorism Behind on trial for involvement in JI, and continues to use detention without trial under the British-colonial era-inspired Internal Security Act 1960 (ISA) coupled with a programme of religious rehabilitation. The ISA allows for an initial 60-day detention for interrogation; if they are not released in that time they receive detention orders that allow detention for two-year periods, which can be renewed indefinitely. The Malaysians have only two categories under the ISA: detention orders (DO) and restrictive orders (RO). Both last two years and can be renewed indefinitely. Those under restrictive orders must report to the local police every week, though some must do so daily, and are not allowed to leave their homes from 8.00 p.m. to 6.00 a.m. Not surprisingly, there has been far less transparency regarding Malaysia’s programme and success. According to my database, which I corroborate using press reports and the reporting of two Malaysian and two Western human rights organizations, there have been 115 people related to JI, al-Qaeda, Darul Islam and the Kumpulan Mujihidin Malaysia (KMM)59 who have been detained between mid-2001 and 2007 under the ISA.60 Most press reports use the figure ‘over 80’ and the occasional press report will say ‘over 100’. According to the human rights group, Aliran, as of the end of December 2007, there were 57 people detained under the ISA, though only 45 were JI/KMM and Darul Islam members. Two of the ISA detainees are women, the wives of Hambali and Yazid Sufaat.61 The Malaysian government or Ministry of Home Affairs does not publicly provide details on these issues on a regular basis, nor does it provide a list of all those detained. As in Singapore, the arrests have come in various waves. Of 115 that I have confirmed were detained under the ISA, 33 (29 per cent) have been unconditionally released. Twenty-six (23 per cent) were placed under restrictive orders (though three were later released unconditionally) with restrictions on their travel. There are 17 others who were released in 2007, though it is not clear whether they were released with or without conditions; the Malaysian government did not release that information. In total, 65 per cent of those detained have been released. Aliran reported that by the end of 2007, some 40 (35 per cent) are still under ISA detention,62 of whom 12 were part of the Darul Islam cell arrested between March and April 200663 and one was detained in August 2007; i.e. they have been detained for just over a year. Malaysia has detained two Singaporean nationals, three Philippine nationals, including a member of the Abu Sayyaf Group, and 16 Indonesian nationals, five of whom were rendered to Indonesia, where they served minor sentences. One group of detainees slightly skews the data: a group of nine students arrested in Pakistan in September 2003 and rendered to Malaysia in November 2003. Four of the nine were immediately released while four others served only one month; only one of the nine remains in prison.64 Otherwise, the earliest releases came in July 2004; thus people had been detained for roughly three years. The average amount of time served for the 26 who were released under restrictive orders was 27 months; while the average time served for the

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33 who were released unconditionally was 52 months. The longest anyone was held was 68 months; the least was 28 months. On 18–19 October 2006, Malaysian authorities released 17 members of JI and the KMM, the largest single release; several of the detainees in the latest release had been held since mid-2001. According to the Malaysian government, they were released on the orders of Prime Minister (and concurrently Minister of Home Affairs) Abdullah Ahmad Badawi because ‘The government was satisfied that all of them are no longer a threat to national security.’ There is also some anecdotal evidence that the 17 were released as an expression of Malaysia’s anger towards the US during Israel’s August 2006 invasion of Lebanon, which humiliated Malaysia, then chairman of the Organization of the Islamic Conference. Malaysia has also begun to provide some funds for the families of JI members so they do not rely on JI social networks. Moreover, Malaysia is starting to provide some funds to former ISA detainees upon their release so they can begin anew. One female detainee, the wife of Yazid Sufaat, was given some funds to start a business upon her release. While human rights organizations and a delegation of the Malaysian bar association have provided information on the harsh treatment of detainees, they revealed nothing about the deradicalization process.65 In general, there has been little transparency about the re-education/de-programming process compared with Indonesia and Singapore. It obviously involves some theological study and counselling. One facet of the Malaysian process is that they focus on the goals of JI, in seeking to establish an Islamic state. The Malaysian government considers the country to be an Islamic state, and it is clear that sharia is gradually becoming parallel to the secular legal system. Malaysian security officials focus on the rate of implementation, while sharing the end goals. One person recounted to me that the line of argument is about the pace of sharia-ization: ‘They would say something like, “Brother, you want to go at a hundred miles an hour and we want to go at 60 miles per hour.” ’66 It should be noted that Malaysia employs many of the same religious counsellors for use against religious deviants, in particular Muslims who attempt to convert to Christianity. There are a number of people who have been detained without trial or simply sentenced in sharia courts and sent for religious re-education (sometimes called ‘religious repentance class’) following attempts at apostasy. The most famous rehabilitation camp is the Akidah Rehabilitation Centre in Ulu Yam Baru, south of the capital, where highprofile detainees have included Revathi Masoosai, who was held for six months.67 There are no doubts that fear and coercion play a central role in Malaysia’s rehabilitation programme. Beatings, torture, long periods of solitary confinement and other punishments are routinely reported by human rights organizations looking at the conditions for ISA detainees.68 People are not necessarily convinced of the error of their ways, or are any less militant, but the

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state’s coercive powers are an effective deterrent. As Deputy Prime Minister Najib Razak put it, ‘They are put under ISA, they are given counselling and if we deem that they are no longer a threat to national security then we will release them. They are being watched very, very carefully.’69 A number of former detainees speaking off the record have explicitly stated that government officials threatened them and their families with far harsher punishments if they engaged in militant and anti-state activities following their release.70 Moreover, there are still a large number of hard cases, so there are obvious limits to the programme. At the other end of the spectrum is the concern that the Malaysian government is releasing people without full rehabilitation as a rebuke to America’s policies and the direction the war on terror has taken, which the Malaysians believe is patently anti-Muslim. A few of the detainees have appeared in the press, but only in statecontrolled media. In an indicative case, in April 2004, four Malaysians detained in Indonesia were interviewed by TV3, a private but very progovernment channel.71 The interview, which was arranged by Malaysian and Indonesian police, was clearly managed and in a controlled environment. The televised ‘confessions’ and repentance were modelled on a similar programme used on former Communist Party of Malaya members the 1970s to 1990s. There have been a handful of managed interviews in the Malaysian press of other JI members who were released from ISA. However, like Singapore, none have been allowed to meet with independent journalists and researchers. There was some brief press attention to and very brief articles about Nik Adli Nik Aziz, the son of the Kelantan state Chief Minister and the spiritual leader of the Islamist opposition Pan-Malaysian Islamic Party (PAS) who was released in October 2006.72 Nik Adli gave a brief interview, said that he was happy to be home with his children and would return to teaching at his family’s school. As one press report candidly noted: ‘He declined to speak in detail about his detention experience, citing pre-release conditions imposed upon him.’73 He has refused further interviews. Likewise, Wan Min Wan Mat has refused to speak to the media, other than a brief prepared statement upon his release. In a statement widely reported in the Malaysian media, Wan Min wrote, ‘The ISA is not cruel. It is necessary to tackle underground activities which are difficult to handle under the normal process.’74 This hardly sounds like an independent voice that was free of coercion. Public confessions have been widely used by the Malaysian government in the past, but with varying degrees of success, dating back to the era in which it was combating the Malayan Communist Party.75 Like Singapore, the fact that the clerics involved in Malaysia’s disengagement process are working for the state can be a drawback. Indeed, in Malaysia, all clerics are state officials and religious authorities vet all sermons. So some militants will never accept the authority of these clerics.

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Conclusions At first glance, the relatively high rates of release from ISA detention in Singapore and Malaysia can be interpreted as a sign of success of the religious rehabilitation programmes for members of JI. Singapore has released – though with restrictions – over 40 per cent of its detainees. To date, well over half of the JI prisoners are too ideological, too committed to violent jihad, and have not responded to rehabilitation and continue to pose a threat to Singapore. In Malaysia, the release rate is higher, though the circumstances of their release are more circumspect as there is more political pressure to release them. Less is known about Malaysia’s rehabilitation programme. Malaysia and Singapore have eschewed legal trials for terrorist suspects and to date, neither country has begun formal proceedings or sought to prosecute in a court of law. They remain wedded to indefinite detention without charge under the ISA with a component of ideological rehabilitation. One could assume that rehabilitation is the only alternative to otherwise indefinite detention. While Indonesia does not have an ISA and has prosecuted more than 300 people, rehabilitation is still a component of their counter-terrorist efforts and is used in conjunction with legal proceedings. Indonesia’s rehabilitation programme is slowly becoming institutionalized, but what sets it apart is that it is done with the active participation of former leaders of JI. To that end it may be more successful, despite the paucity of resources at the government’s disposal. There are eight large questions about the rehabilitation programmes in South East Asia. The first is whether position in the organization has an effect on the rehabilitation process. In all three countries, the closer one is to the centre of the organization, and in particular the closer one is to an actual terrorist plot, the harsher the sentence and the less likelihood of release or rehabilitation. This is very clear in the case of Singapore. To date, most of those who have been rehabilitated or received remissions, in the case of Indonesia, have been low-level personnel, who may be less vested in the militant cause and thus more susceptible to rehabilitation. Again in Indonesia, authorities claim that 10 to 20 JI managers and leaders are participating in the rehabilitation programme, which is important in a hierarchical society. Malaysia and Singapore have so far not relied on former/rehabilitated members of JI to lead the rehabilitation process, opting, instead for establishment clerics. Interestingly, most of the ‘rehabilitees’ are junior members, sympathizers or logistical supporters, not the hardened jihadists and cell leaders. It is possible that these operatives have been denied rehabilitation or a chance at getting out of prison. The second question is whether the continued threat of coercion and indefinite imprisonment in Malaysia and Singapore is a factor in rehabilitation programmes. It could be that deterrent, rather than genuine rehabilitation, is the driving force. If so, as a policy prescription, it can only work for small populations of militants and is unsustainable as a strategy. One could infer

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that some detainees are getting sentences reduced because they are cooperating as witnesses for the government in ongoing cases or becoming informants. This is particularly true in Indonesia where JI militants have been put on trial, and thus witnesses are rewarded. The third question is whether the structure of JI has any impact on rehabilitation. JI is a very horizontal organization; indeed, it has become more so in the past few years.76 So we tend not to see people lose their ranks or status. Few have voluntarily quit the organization. The high level of interconnectedness based on kinship may affect the rate of rehabilitation. No country relies on families in the same way that Saudi Arabia has. Fourth, to date we know little about the costs of leaving JI. While Noordin Mohamad Top, a JI leader at large, has made threats against Nasir bin Abas, I know of no attempts on his life. So few JI members have been rehabilitated that we do not know whether the organization has a system of coercion in place to punish transgressors. Have JI clerics issued fatwas against the turncoats? If they did, would it be counter-productive? The fifth question has to do with the rates of recidivism. To date they are low. Singapore has re-detained at least one of the people it freed on RO. Again, the Yemeni model, on whose programme Singapore’s is based, has experienced high rates of recidivism. Singapore, however, is a much more orderly society than Yemen, and it is far harder to go underground. Singaporean authorities engage in regular and thorough post-release monitoring of ISA detainees. There is no confirmed data from Malaysia. In Indonesia, where 150 JI militants have already been released, though often without rehabilitation, the potential for recidivism is much higher. The sixth question is whether disillusionment has an impact on deradicalization. While operationally JI has been weakened by counter-terrorist operations, there is little evidence that the state of JI has had an impact on both the number of people quitting and the ability to rehabilitate members. There still has not been collective disengagement. While some members have engaged in crime, and its leaders have justified this, the group has not degenerated into a criminal enterprise. Members are very well indoctrinated and seem fairly well committed to the group’s goals. There have not been huge factional or generational rifts that have led to disillusionment. The seventh question concerns the degree of social and financial support the government is willing to provide to detainees and their families. The evidence suggests that there is a strong and positive correlation between the provision of aid and successful rehabilitation programmes. In 2003, JI’s chief of operations, Riduan Isamudin, better known as Hambali, received an uncharacteristically large sum of money from Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, roughly $100,000, which he could use in any way. While much of that money went to fund the 2003 bombing of the JW Marriott hotel in Jakarta and some $27,000 was given to the MILF as a ‘thank you’ for continued use of the training camps, there was a significant portion that Hambali earmarked for support for detainees’ families. JI is a kinship and social network. The

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Singapore government more explicitly, and the Malaysian government to a lesser degree, have tried to ensure that detainee families are provided for, so as to wean them off JI’s social networks. The Indonesian government has begun to follow suit. This and other strategies that focus on the families, especially the spouses, should be a key component of any rehabilitation programme. Finally, the rehabilitation programmes in Malaysia and Indonesia are about getting militants to reject their violent means, but not to get them to reject their goals of living in an Islamic state, governed by sharia. In Indonesia, JI has recently adopted a more overt strategy based on social welfare and good deeds.77 It has an overt civil society arm, the MMI, that is committed to establishing sharia and engaging in da
wah activities. The Indonesian government has actually encouraged this development, hoping that they can wean JI members off violence by giving them space in politics and civil society. Moreover, in Malaysia and Indonesia, there are legal Islamist parties that are committed to these same ends. We must understand that the Malaysian and Indonesian societies have shifted to the right and have become far more religiously conservative. There are a number of Islamist parties, including PKS and PAS, that espouse their goals and are actually implementing sharia and other aspects of Islamist public policy at the local level. People can continue to maintain their cognitive radicalism, if not their behavioural radicalism. Nonetheless, despite these many shortcomings and lack of transparency, the three governments have made disengagement and rehabilitation a cornerstone of their counter-terrorism efforts. As JI has been considerably weakened in the past few years, this strategy must be considered a component of that success. The programmes deserve fuller study, and possible adaptation in Thailand and the Philippines, where the poorly implemented and ill-conceived rehabilitation programmes have backfired on the regimes.

13 Extremist re-education and rehabilitation in Saudi Arabia Christopher Boucek

In the aftermath of the wave of terrorist violence that struck Saudi Arabia in May 2003, Saudi authorities launched a series of counter-terrorism and security measures designed to combat the ideology that supported violent Islamist extremism. Central to these efforts has been the development of a program to rehabilitate violent militants and their sympathizers through an innovative prisoner re-education and rehabilitation program. The program, initially developed and implemented in secret in order to foster its success away from media attention, is now discussed quite openly in the kingdom, and is beginning to attract wider international attention as word spreads about the inventive Saudi approach and the relative successes of the young program. This chapter will explore the program’s background history, organization, structure, process and relative successes. It is hoped that this overview of the Saudi Counselling Program will not only inform general discussion of demobilization strategies, but also provide some insights into what contributes to program successes. To be sure, the Saudi model is not one that can be universally applied elsewhere. However, this examination will highlight several factors essential to its success, including the focus of extended social networks, the importance of treating the family and not just the individual, and the incorporation of traditional cultural methods of conflict resolution and co-optation. As interest in deradicalization and demobilization programs increases, and as word spreads about the program, Saudi Arabia is in a unique position to be able to share its experiences and lessons learned. To date, the Saudi Counselling Program is the most expansive and successful in seeking to deactivate radical violent Islamist extremists, and as such its impact will be sure to spread as other nations look to Riyadh for insights.

Background The Counselling Program to re-educate and rehabilitate terrorist sympathizers is part of the self-described ‘war of ideas’ against extremism in the kingdom. This quiet struggle has been ongoing for sometime, and the program represents a unique Saudi solution to a Saudi problem. It

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incorporates many traditional Saudi methods of conflict resolution and conflict management. The fact that the program was begun in secret, and not in response to outside pressures, is very telling; its origins arose out of a recognition in the kingdom that something had to be done to address extremist sympathies, and is tacit acknowledgment of the threat that the ‘war of ideas’ has posed. The centerpiece of the Saudi strategy is dubbed the ‘Counselling Program’ which is intended to assist those individuals that have espoused takfiri beliefs to ‘repent and abandon terrorist ideologies’.1 The program seeks to de-radicalize extremists and extremist sympathizers by engaging them in intensive religious debates and psychological counselling. It is important to stress that the only people who have been released through the Counselling Program are terrorist sympathizers and support personnel, and at the most, individuals caught with jihadi propaganda or who have provided logistical assistance. They are not individuals who have been active in terrorist violence in the kingdom; thus far people ‘with blood on their hands’ are barred from release through the Counselling Program. Saudi officials are very keen to stress that not everyone who participates in the program will be released. Release is contingent upon successfully completing the program and satisfactorily demonstrating to the Advisory Committee’s doctors and psychologists that the rehabilitation is genuine. Moreover, not everyone who completes the program will be released. If there is still time left on someone’s sentence, according to Saudi authorities, that must first be completed before a prisoner can be released. Furthermore, if the Interior Ministry has information that, despite having finished the program (or a sentence for that matter), an individual plans to commit further acts of violence, then that prisoner will not be released. The Counselling Program draws on several Saudi traditions, including a history of prisoner rehabilitation programs and the use of religious figures in the correctional system. This following section will briefly examine these two factors. Societal origins of the program There is an established culture of prisoner reintegration programs in Saudi Arabia, and the concept of detainee rehabilitation, such as that done by the Counselling Program, is the most recent iteration of that trend. In the kingdom there are a number of social programs and organizations designed to help prisoners reintegrate into society after leaving prison, and this is based on well-established tradition in Islamic jurisprudence.2 These include several committees drawn from various government departments including the Ministry of Labour and the Ministry of Health, as well as specialized organizations such as the Committee for Supporting Prisoners and their Families,3 the National Committee for the Protection of Prisoners,4 the National Committee for the Care of Prisoners, Released Prisoners and

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their Families,5 the Criminal Investigation Research Centre,6 and the Family Reconciliation Committee.7 Other organizations, such as the General Directorate of Prisons, the General Administration of Prisons, the Ministry of Social Affairs, and the Ministry of Islamic Affairs, Guidance and Endowment also provide essential rehabilitation and reintegration services for prisoners in Saudi Arabia. There have been a number of recent media reports highlighting the efforts of the Saudi government to assist the reintegration of persons convicted of civil and criminal offenses. These have included programs to help facilitate marriages8 (including institutionalized support to help find spouses for women convicted of immorality offenses9), to increase the delivery of social services,10 and schemes to support families of incarcerated breadwinners.11 Other initiatives such as the ‘Centennial Fund’ have been started to grant loans to released prisoners and soon to be freed prisoners so that they can start their own businesses upon release.12 Charitable organizations often work together with the government to establish schools and training programs for prisoners in order to help prisoners gain employment,13 while other NGOs frequently help released prisoners and their families with groceries, clothes and toys for Ramadan.14 Another noteworthy program is the ‘Best Mother Award’, designed to support women with children whose husbands are serving time in prison.15 The second factor that the Counselling Program draws on is the employment of religious figures in Saudi prisons. There is precedent for a sheikh or religious scholar to visit a prisoner in Saudi Arabia. For instance, asking a religious figure to intercede after the arrest of a loved one and to make enquires after their welfare was not an uncommon practice. In rural Saudi Arabia, if one’s son or nephew was arrested, one could ask the village imam to visit the detained and ask them how they got into this situation.16 Moreover, asking a cleric to speak to misguided youth transcends religions and culture. Religious figures frequently engage with prisoners in other ways as well to promote reform, repentance and piety. Prison administrators, working with the Ministry of Islamic Affairs, organize Islamic lectures and Qur
anic recitation lessons for the incarcerated.17 Prisoners have received early release for memorizing the Qur
an, and there is a formula for determining how much of a sentence can be commuted for committing the Qur
an, or part thereof, to memory. In addition to these counselling and ministering activities, Muslim clerics have also been used by Saudi security personnel during investigations to ‘intellectually interrogate’ suspected militants by engaging them in theological remonstration.18 Religious figures have successfully been used to encourage suspected Islamist militants to confess or to urge defendants to cooperate with authorities. This practice, in use before the May 2003 Riyadh compound bombings, is understood to have increased since then.19

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Initial genesis The Counselling Program roots can be traced back to an intense public engagement campaign conducted by the Ministry of Interior that was designed to dispel allegations of abuse and torture in the kingdom’s prison system. Ten clerics from each province were chosen, and for one month they were allowed to visit prisons throughout the country. According to interviews with senior officials, these clerics were specifically chosen because of their criticism of the Saudi prison system.20 Within Saudi Arabia, prison facilities are divided into zones; the clerics were granted access to each zone within the prisons and were allowed to meet with prisoners. When they finished and the word spread about their meetings with prisoners, family members began to visit the sheikhs at their homes to ask after their loved ones. Hundreds of people came to call on the clerics, many of whom had heard little from their detained relatives. The sheikhs were able to reassure families, and trust and rapport between the clerics and the detainees’ families was very shrewdly established. Through this process the Interior Ministry ‘sent the message down to families’ that their loved ones were being looked after. This undertaking – engaging independent religious scholars to advocate and vouch for the status of prisoners – would also later contribute to the legitimacy of the Counselling Program.21

Basis of the program The Counselling Program is based upon a presumption of benevolence, and not vengeance or retribution. It presumes that the suspects were abused, lied to and misled by extremists into straying away from true Islam, and that the state wants to help security prisoners return to the correct path. The vast majority of prisoners who have participated in the program, according to research conducted by the Advisory Committee, have been found to not have had a religious education during their childhood.22 The Advisory Committee has completed a large research study of program participants’ backgrounds and upbringings. A total of 639 subjects were included in the study, none of whom had engaged in violence in the kingdom. According to the Committee, detainees were typically young (usually in their 20s), came from large, lower/middle-class families (between 7 to 15 siblings), and their parents had low education levels. The majority of this sample was low or middle class, while only 3 per cent were categorized as coming from high-income backgrounds. In this group, it was found that approximately one third of the subjects had engaged in jihad abroad, in Afghanistan, Somalia or Chechnya. They also found that a number had prior criminal histories; 25 per cent had criminal records and 13 per cent had drug offences in their pasts. Also very interestingly, according to program officials many of the youth ending up in the program knew relatively little about religious matters.23 The Committee’s study found that

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only 5 per cent of those studied worked in ‘religious’ jobs such as with the mutaween or as imams. Most of the prisoners have been found by the Committee to have an incomplete understanding of Islam, and it is this fact which, according to Saudi officials, accounts for the successes of the program.24 According to the Committee’s study, most detainees did not complete much education; instead the majority had been radicalized through extremist books, tapes, videos, and more recently the internet.25 The Counselling Program, therefore, seeks to ‘correct’ this misunderstanding by reintroducing and reinforcing the official state version of Islam. Because these individuals did not correctly learn the tenets of their faith originally, they were susceptible to extremist propaganda. As a result the program seeks to remove incorrect understandings of Islam and replace them with correct understandings.26 Moreover, the state is able to marshal its considerable religious authority to confer legitimacy on the process. The fact that a number of former militant figures have joined the Advisory Committee adds further legitimacy for some prisoners. The presence of such figures carries credibility with a number of participants in the program, as it was their da
wa that led many to initially radicalize. Another critical component of the Saudi Counselling Program is the attention given to a prisoner’s social needs. The Psychological and Social Subcommittee evaluates each participant to determine how best the Advisory Committee can assist them and their family. For instance, once a breadwinner is incarcerated, the Committee provides the family with an alternative salary. Other needs, including children’s schooling and family healthcare, are also provided. This is intended to offset further radicalization brought on by the detention of family members. It is acknowledged by officials that when the government arrests someone, that memory lingers, and this social support is intended to offset that hardship somewhat. The government further recognizes that if they fail to do this, then it is very possible that extremist elements will move in to provide this support. This support then continues upon release. Prisoners who have successfully completed the rehabilitation process and have satisfactorily renounced their previous beliefs are given assistance in locating jobs and other benefits, including additional government stipends, cars and apartments. Assistance in getting jobs has included placement in government jobs and within the private sector.27 The Interior Ministry also helps those individuals who previously had government jobs before they entered the program regain their positions.28 As of November 2007, the Advisory Committee was working with local chambers of commerce and other certification organizations to organize training courses for program participants.29 This was intended to empower released detainees to be qualified to start their own businesses when paired with government start-up funds. Upon release former detainees are required to check in with authorities, and are encouraged to continue meeting with the scholars they were speaking

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with while in prison. Many, for instance, often continue to attend their study circles at mosque after being released. Furthermore, rehabilitated prisoners are encouraged to settle down, marry, and have children, in part because it is understood that it is much more difficult for young men to get into trouble once they become obligated with family responsibilities.30 The government has facilitated this by paying for weddings, donating dowries and covering other essential pre-marriage costs such as furnishing apartments.31 Senior officials from the Interior Ministry and the Advisory Committee frequently attend the weddings of former detainees. The successes of the program are compounded by the Advisory Committee’s application of these social support programs to a prisoner’s larger family network. The Ministry of Interior augments this support with the delivery of the message that a prisoner’s larger family network is also responsible for his behavior upon his release.32 This makes use of several important Saudi cultural mores, including social responsibility, notions of honor, and the recognition of traditional family and extended family hierarchies. For instance, when detainees are released for family events such as weddings or funerals, three family members must come forward to guarantee their return; should the detainee not return, then those three family members would have to take his place.33 As of the time of writing no prisoner has ever used this opportunity to escape. The use of Saudi social networks, familial obligations and extended responsibilities reinforces program objectives once a detainee has left the committee’s formal oversight.

Program Organization The Counselling Program is organized under the auspices of the Ministry of Interior. Within the Ministry, the Counselling Program is administered by a group called the Advisory Committee.34 The Advisory Committee is headquartered in Riyadh, and has permanent representatives located in seven major cities throughout the kingdom. Members also travel to visit prisons across the country and meet with detainees throughout the kingdom. The Advisory Committee is made up of four subcommittees: the Religious Subcommittee; the Psychological and Social Subcommittee; the Security Subcommittee; and the Media Subcommittee. The Religious Subcommittee is the largest of the four sub-groupings. It is made up of approximately 150 clerics, scholars and university professors, and it is the group that directly engages in the prisoner dialogues and the counselling process. Individual clerics are typically approached on a personal basis and asked if they would like to participate in the committee’s activities and dialogue with detainees. The Advisory Committee is very careful who it asks to participate in its activities. One of the most important factors in selecting Religious Subcommittee members is communication style. It is essential that when talking with a detainee, that a cleric should not lecture; the process is not intended to be one-sided. One of the criteria used to evaluate

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communication style is whether the scholar speaks with a detainee like ‘his own brother’ and whether or not the Subcommittee member is motivated out of love, compassion and a drive to help the detainee. Several Subcommittee members have not been invited back to work with detainees after their style was found to be not conducive to dialogue. Moreover, if a Subcommittee member cannot successfully engage a detainee, then another cleric will be selected to speak with him instead. Because of the large number of religious experts and scholars in Saudi Arabia, the Committee is able to draw on a very large pool of potential participants.35 Participating scholars have recognized the danger posed by ‘corrupted understandings’ and ‘misinterpretations of correct doctrine’, and thus are driven to help guide young men back to the correct path, according to officials. Although, as of November 2007, there were 150 members of the Religious Subcommittee, the Advisory Committee does not release the names of the participating sheikhs and scholars. Some individual members speak publicly and grant interviews; however, others prefer to continue their work for the Committee without drawing attention to themselves. Some members shun publicity because they are engaged in this work only to serve God, and not to seek public recognition; they believe they will be more richly rewarded by God for doing this work in secret. There are also others who are concerned with being publically associated with the Counselling Program, and fearful of a backlash were their association to be revealed. For some, this includes a fear of violent reprisal while others are concerned with maintaining their distance from government-led initiatives. Interestingly, despite the concerns some members have of their affiliations becoming known, there is also a group of scholars and academics in Saudi Arabia that have not been asked, though who are eager to participate in the Committee’s activities in order to use the program’s rising profile as a way to promote themselves.36 The Psychological and Social Subcommittee is comprised of around 50 psychologists, psychiatrists, social scientists and researchers. The staff of this subcommittee is responsible for a number of tasks. They play a key role during the counselling process as they are responsible for evaluating a prisoner’s social status, diagnosing any psychological problems, and assessing the prisoner’s status and compliance. During the counselling and dialogue process, members of this subcommittee will participate in some of the sessions, in particular the long study sessions. Social scientists and psychologists continually interact with detainees and are therefore able to assess their development and status during the program. This provides vital insights into how an individual participant is progressing. Moreover, this subcommittee also evaluates detainees’ participation in an attempt to determine whether or not the rehabilitation is genuine. Because many of the counsellors live with or spend considerable periods of time with the detainees, they get to know them quite well. It is said that this, in combination with the regular psychological and sociological testing and other evaluation methods, helps reduce the number of opportunistic or insincere revisions.

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This subcommittee is also responsible for determining what support the prisoner and his family may need after release. In doing so, the Advisory Committee seeks to offset physical hardships that often arise when a family member is arrested. More importantly, this is also done to short-circuit the radicalization of other family members. Steps by the government to care for detainees’ families demonstrate that the regime is not seeking to punish them or their families. This further reinforces the benevolent perception of the program and it is a critical aspect of its success. The government is very careful with how it engages with family members in order to preserve the framework of compassion and rehabilitation. According to Prince Mohammed bin Nayef, the family needs to feel that everything is being done for them and their loved one; the more a family is involved in the process, the more likely the family will participate in the rehabilitation process.37 Through this program and others, the Saudi government works very hard to drive home the point that the extremists do not care about the individual; they merely seek to use misled youth to advance their own agendas. Conversely, the state works very hard to demonstrate that it cares deeply about each person, and it will therefore do whatever it takes to support and care for someone. This is an essential aspect of the program, and it is a central argument that the government makes in its ‘war of ideas’. The Security Subcommittee performs several functions, although for research purposes many details of their work remain as yet unknown. The most important function of the Security Subcommittee is that they evaluate prisoners for security risks and then make release recommendations based upon the input provided by the Religious Subcommittee and the Psychological and Social Subcommittee. This subcommittee also advises prisoners on how to behave upon release, and makes suggestions on what detainees can do to best avoid future run-ins with the authorities. Central to the work of this subcommittee is monitoring detainees once they leave prison. Upon release, program graduates are told that they will be monitored, and that their continued freedom is dependent upon their staying away from their old associates and habits. Detainees are told that they will be monitored in very obvious ways and in a much more covert manner. They are advised of who they can associate with once they leave prison, and it is understood that they are required to regularly check in with the subcommittee.38 It should also be noted that members of the Religious Subcommittee and the Psychological and Social Subcommittee remain in contact with program graduates as well. Clerics will visit their former dialogue partners, and former detainees will frequently continue to study with the sheikhs who were counselling them in prison. Upon release, graduates are encouraged to maintain this contact and to call on either the sheikhs or the doctors if they are ever in need. Periodic visits by Advisory Committee members to former program participants continue after release in order to ensure that everything is on track, and that there are no problems. While many of the Advisory Committee would readily do so, especially those clerics who believe they are doing

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God’s work, it is also their responsibility to keep tabs on former security prisoners. The Media Subcommittee produces materials used in the program and also makes other educational materials for use in schools and mosques. This subcommittee is focused on outreach and education, and primarily on targeting young Saudi men. Towards this end, the subcommittee has done extensive research in order to determine what is the best means of delivering this message. Accordingly, they studied the internet, radio, television and print mediums, and through their research they determined that the most efficient way to reach their target audience was through Jumu
ah prayers.39 As such, much of the Committee’s work is conveyed to the public through mosques and events like lectures and study circles held at mosques. The subcommittee seeks to reinforce several messages through its materials. These include the concept that extremists will only use you and that those that fall in with militants have misunderstood the basic tenets of Islam. One example of the type of materials produced by the Media Subcommittee was a television program that featured a young Saudi man who was recruited for a terrorist attack. When the young man learned that this was to be a suicide attack, he refused, but the extremists deceived him and remotely detonated the explosives. The character in the program survived but was left severely disfigured, and the message of the program is clear: involvement with terrorists will result in tragic consequences, not only for you, but for your entire family.40 The Media Subcommittee also produces pamphlets and other documents and written materials. In coordination with the Ministry of Islamic Affairs and the Ministry of Education, the subcommittee helps coordinate lectures and speakers for mosques and schools. Through these efforts, the Advisory Committee has been able to deliver its message time and time again to a wide range of audiences, in mosques, schools, and at summer camps and clubs.41

The counselling process When members of the Advisory Committee initially sit with a prisoner, one of the first things that they stress is that they are not employees of the Ministry of Interior or associated with the security forces.42 Rather they explain that they are independent and righteous scholars. Before the government adopted this technique, it was not uncommon for families to ask clerics and scholars to visit their family members in jail and talk with them about their behavior. According to several committee members, initial meetings between counsellors and detainees did not go well. At first detainees would refuse to meet with clerics.43 According to Sheikh Ali al-Nafisah, the detainees ‘would not salute or shake hands with members of the committee, because they believed that these members were aides of infidels’.44 This situation has slowly changed, and meetings are now described as being held in a ‘warm and

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respectful’ environment. As word of the program began to spread, there was initially a sizeable backlash from extremists who would denounce the Committee. The rehabilitation program was called a sham, and the militant community accused anyone who had gone through the program of being a government spy.46 Detainees themselves at first thought that the program was merely another form of interrogation.47 However, the head of the Interior Ministry’s Guidance and Awareness Department has affirmed that ‘the counselling process has nothing to do with the interrogation of those detained for security reasons’.48 In their first meeting, Committee Members will simply listen to the prisoner. They ask them about what they did, why they did it, and the circumstances that brought them to be in prison. Throughout the process, the scholars engage prisoners in discussions about their beliefs, and then attempt to persuade them that their religious justification for their actions is wrong and based upon a corrupted understanding of Islam. First the Committee demonstrates how what the prisoners were tricked into believing was false, and then they set to teach them the proper state-approved interpretation of Islam. Sheikh Abdel Mohsin al-Obaykan has described the process as follows: ‘The advice is given through discussion sessions in a suitable place. The prisoner is asked to express all the suspicions he has and the evidence on which he relies, and then these are discussed with him, and he is introduced to the truth and to the meaning of this evidence.’49 Initial sessions, especially those held in prison, are conducted one-on-one.50 These can be both formal and informal discussions, as much of the counselling process depends on the two individuals involved. Later on, especially once a detainee has moved to the Care Rehabilitation Centre, sessions do not just take the form of religious lectures. Discussions and dialogues are encouraged.51 While some counselling sessions take place in classrooms, others occur in very informal settings, often involving subtle negotiations and dialogue about everyday affairs.52 However, all the while the Committee staff is evaluating program participants. The Advisory Committee runs two programs. The first are short sessions, which typically run for about two hours. While some prisoners recant their beliefs after a single session, typically a prisoner would go through several of these.53 The others are called ‘Long Study Sessions’. These are six-week courses for up to 20 students led by two clerics and a social scientist. Ten subjects are covered over the six weeks, including instruction in such topics as takfir, walaah (loyalty) and bayat (allegiance), terrorism, the legal rules for jihad, and psychological courses on self-esteem. Instruction is also given on the concepts of ‘faith, leadership, and community’, as well as guidance on how to ‘avoid misleading, delusional books’.54 The important role of scholars in Islamic jurisprudence is stressed, and detainees are also taught about sedition and the sanctity of blood in Islam.55 The study of socalled ideological topics, such as ‘loyalty (to Muslims), and enmity (against non-believers), (the illicitness of) supporting non-believers and (need to)

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throw them out of the Arabian Peninsula, and others, in an effort to rectify’ incorrect religious understandings is essential.56 At the end of the course, an exam is given; those who pass the exam move to the next stage of the process, while those who do not pass repeat the course.

Success rate Since its inception, roughly 3,000 prisoners have participated in the Counselling Program, and 1,500 have renounced their former beliefs and been released.57 All of the released prisoners have been men, according to Dr Muhammad al-Nujaymi of the Advisory Committee.58 Approximately 1,000 prisoners remain incarcerated. According to program workers, some prisoners have refused to participate in the program. Saudi authorities have acknowledged that some prisoners have sought to actively work against the program. These prisoners are individuals who know that they will not be able to get out and feel that they can do the most good for the cause by attempting to frustrate the authorities’ attempts to turn prisoners. In many respects, their desire to work against the Counselling Program from the inside demonstrates to some extent the successes of the Advisory Committee. Thus far, the program has produced results, with Saudi authorities claiming an 80 to 90 per cent success rate. The 20 per cent failure rate described by Saudi officials includes those detainees who refused to participate in the program, as well as those detainees who failed the rehabilitation program. Admittedly, it is difficult to measure the relative success of the Counselling Program, especially only several years into it. However, according to Saudi authorities, as of 1 November 2007 only 35 individuals have been re-arrested for security offences since their release through the Counselling Program, equating to a recidivist rate of between one and two per cent.59 Officials admit, however, that there could be more individuals who have been released through the program who have yet to be discovered reoffending.

Reactions and responses to the program Saudi Arabia’s Counselling Program has generated considerable international interest despite its relatively short history and the program is increasingly the subject of media reports. Officials from the Advisory Committee have traveled abroad to share their experiences60 and have met with a number of interested parties in Saudi Arabia. The program has generated particular interest from Western governments. Britain, for example, has expressed interest in learning more about how the techniques used in Saudi Arabia could help short-circuit the radicalization process,61 especially in prison populations. French officials have also expressed interest. The United States government has frequently commented on the Saudi program with interest, and in late 2007 stories began to emerge about a similar type of

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program involving religious counselling being used by the US military on captured insurgents in Iraq.62 In Saudi Arabia, support for the Counselling Program is far from universal. Some within the establishment have expressed the opinion that several sudden executions would do more to demonstrate the state’s resolve to fight extremist ideology than the Counselling Program.63 The Advisory Committee and the Counselling Program have also come under criticism in the press.64 They have been accused of not producing results65 and of conducting their activities in secret.66 It has been argued that prisoners would say anything in order to be released from prison, and therefore the affirmations of militants to renounce their takfiri beliefs cannot be trusted.67 While the Counselling Program is far from perfect, the use of psychological assessments, social support and religious belief has helped to weed out disingenuous participants.

Conclusion In only a few years, Saudi Arabia’s Counselling Program has generated some very intriguing results. The problem posed by extremism is not one that can be addressed by hard security measures alone, and the Counselling Program demonstrates the benefits that can come through critical engagement in the ‘war of ideas’. This under-studied program and other similar programs clearly warrant greater attention in the West as the successes being generated hold applicable lessons for other nations struggling with extremism. While responses to the program have varied from genuine interest to deep scepticism, it is clear that the kingdom’s efforts warrant further study in order to better understand how its techniques can be applied in other cases. The Saudi program highlights the importance of several factors that will be essential in any demobilization program for Islamist militants, and the close involvement of an individual’s family and extended social network is essential. Thus far, it seems that graduates from the program create intense bonds with the sheikhs and scholars that they enter into dialogue with. To be sure, approaches such as the Counselling Program are bound to increase in popularity and practice. In the future, with more time and distance, it will be interesting to track whether such programs are in fact geared toward de-radicalization – actually changing beliefs – or counter-radicalization – getting individuals to no longer act on their beliefs.

14 Pakistan In search of a disengagement strategy Shazadi Beg and Laila Bokhari

Introduction In the years following the events of 11 September 2001, Pakistan has often come to be seen as a vital player in the fight against terrorism. It is a key ally for the West and retains an important political and historical role in the region. It is also, arguably, the arena for the most rapid rise in violent extremism if radicalization is not addressed as a matter of urgency. Pakistan has long faced both domestic and regional challenges, much of which is related to its own fight against militancy and sectarianism. While outside observers have asked for more efforts to combat the problem of increased radicalization in the country, Pakistan has also been accused of failing to dismantle al-Qaeda and Taliban ‘safe havens’ inside parts of the tribal belt, known as the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA). Similarly, while several high-profile terrorists have been arrested in Pakistan over the last few years, both Osama bin Laden and Ayman al-Zawahiri are considered to still be hiding somewhere along the Pakistan/Afghanistan border. The West, and the US in particular, remains concerned about an unstable nuclear armed Pakistan where insurgents are fighting both Pakistan’s security forces and Western forces in Afghanistan and beyond. A series of brazen attacks against military and political leaders by militants have contributed to further political turmoil, which, arguably, has reduced Pakistan’s focus and ability to coordinate effective attacks against the Taliban and al-Qaeda on its own soil. Many fear that a deteriorating situation in Pakistan will have consequences for not only the region, but also the rest of the world. The ‘export of radicalization’ allegedly from Pakistan has been a grave concern for a number of European states in recent years. While disengagement programmes have developed in parts of the Middle East and Europe, there is clear recognition of the urgent need to focus on Pakistan as a country where both a rapid and significant violent radicalization is taking place. This is recognized by the ANP (Awami National Party) government in the North West Frontier Province (NWFP) which has directly addressed the issue of recruitment and radicalization in its comprehensive strategy for economic and social reforms in the Frontier region.1 The issue of violent

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radicalization must, however, be seen as a national endeavour and part of Pakistan’s struggle as opposed to a US war being fought by Pakistan on its behalf. Two important questions remain: firstly, what strategies should be adopted to help reduce radicalization and recruitment into violent extremism in the country? Secondly, what programmes can be put in place to help the large number of detainees, arrested on suspicion of involvement in terrorist offences, reintegrate back into society. This chapter aims to address some of the factors through which Pakistan has become central in the war against terrorism. While discussing the slide into violent extremism, the chapter also identifies ways in which Pakistan can stem recruitment into militancy and persuade the new generation of mujahidin to leave terrorism behind. The authors have, through interviews made with former and current militants, tribal and political leaders, provided insights into the thinking of key players and put focus on some of the shortcomings of the current efforts by the authorities and the status quo. Pakistan does not have an official deradicalization and rehabilitation strategy; this chapter aims, however, to point to ways of addressing relevant issues which may provide a framework for developing a future strategy at different levels of society.

Pakistan and its Cold War legacy To fully understand militant Islam as it relates to developments in Pakistan (and indeed Afghanistan), it is necessary to consider the regional and historical context that has influenced events. This can provide a framework for understanding the rise of militancy and establish a basis for possible solutions to counter the challenge – both in the short and the long term. The legacy of the Cold War and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan remains a key historical starting point. At the heart of this was the Afghan resistance movement against Soviet occupation, conducted by the mujahidin – ‘holy warriors’ or jihadi fighters from across the Muslim world. From this resistance evolved modern political militant Islam, initially supported and resourced to a large extent by the West.2 In a tripartite partnership, the United States, Pakistan and Saudi Arabia funded, armed and trained the mujahidin to fight the Soviets, portrayed as ‘the Godless communists’. Millions of dollars were spent on indoctrinating the fighters with Saudi-inspired Wahhabi ideology and a sense of Islamic puritanism. Additionally, the Saudi Arabian government simultaneously encouraged the growth and spread of religious seminaries in the 1980s to counter the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan and to promote their own brand of Islam across the region. Some of these were seen to also involve militant training. More than 25 million US dollars was spent by the CIA in printing and distributing literature glorifying jihad and encouraging Afghan refugees in Pakistan to join political organizations promoting jihad.3 In this way, the mujahidin were provided with a global media image, and the message of jihad spread.

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At the same time, the then Pakistani president, General Zia-ul-Haq, endorsed a so-called strategy of ‘Islamization of Pakistan’, in which Sunni groups received influence and resources to forward their agenda. While seen here as a vital player in promoting the Afghan jihad, the climate also gave more fuel to the domestic sectarian rivalry between Sunni and Shia militant organizations. For nearly a decade the United States and its allies used Pakistan as an entry point and a ‘logistical base’ for the war fought against the Soviet Union in Afghanistan. The result of all of this was that a vital infrastructure for the local militant groups was created – together with a large cadre of trained young men, which would later stand ready to be used by militant movements in Pakistan. Meanwhile, the withdrawal of the Soviet Army from Afghanistan in 1989 brought triumph to the mujahidin, but also saw the rise of the Afghan warlords. As Afghanistan descended into chaos amid a sea of weapons and internal rivalry, there were also thousands of unemployed and battlehardened youth looking for new pastures. The arrival of the Taliban on the political scene in 1994 was at first welcomed because they restored some much-needed order. The fact that many of the leading Taliban figures were born and educated in madaris in the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) was later to become important in terms of continuous alliances and cross-border contacts. The historical link with Pakistan therefore was, and still is, strong. For Pakistan the recognition of the Taliban when in power was a mix of ethnic allegiance and geopolitical strategy; Pakistan’s national policy of ‘strategic depth’ at the time was based on a de facto control of 95 per cent of Afghanistan by the Taliban.

Post 9/11: the search for a new jihad The Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan was in many ways seen as ‘mission accomplished’ by the United States and its allies during the Cold War. Both Afghanistan and Pakistan, however, quickly felt abandoned upon the US withdrawal from the region. Many of those who had fought in Afghanistan had nowhere to go after the war was over, and consequently hundreds of thousands of fighters remained in Pakistan and the border regions. A vast number of the mujahidin were left with no homes or families to return to. Some mujahidin were encouraged to take the so-called holy war to Kashmir – a long-time defined national struggle for Pakistan against their arch-enemy India – while others turned on their former masters after the events of 11 September 2001. Some Afghan-Arabs who had fought in Afghanistan returned to their home countries, while others stayed in Pakistan, hosted by the local communities. Many married into the local communities, and soon became ‘naturalized’.4 Young Pakistani men also returned to their villages, first as heroes of the jihad against the great Soviet Empire; later, however, to be forgotten, unemployed and living in abject poverty. These young men, their ideology and readiness to fight, were soon to become a problem for the region and for the world.

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Soon after the attacks of 11 September 2001, Pakistan recognized that its own survival depended on joining forces with the United States against al-Qaeda and the Taliban. President Musharraf argued that Pakistan was both economically and socially weak and, in the final analysis, the Taliban – even if a long-term partner – was not worth committing what would be tantamount to national suicide.5 Pakistan recognized the need for a drastic change in policy. At the same time, however, the jihadi ideology remained unchallenged, with the result that madaris continued to flourish and the religious parties grew stronger, even as Pakistan began deploying its forces against its own people in the tribal belt and entered areas where no outsider had gone in a hundred years. The focus of the counter-terrorism operations was for a long time on the foreign fighters who were found on Pakistani soil. Since the start of these military operations, Pakistan has killed or captured more than 800 al-Qaeda operatives, including prominent figures such as Khalid Sheikh Mohammed and Abu Faraj al-Libi. Most of these high-security arrests have taken place in the larger cities of Pakistan, where foreign al-Qaeda operatives were seen to blend in with traditionally more local groups, such as the Lashkar-e-Tayyiba and Jaish-e-Mohammed. Many of those arrested have been the subject of ‘extraordinary rendition’ to unknown destinations by being handed over to the US without due process. Others have disappeared undocumented into Pakistani jails. Their cases have been taken up by human rights organizations and the Supreme Court of Pakistan. The result of all this is that the enemy for many militants has turned from being purely the allied forces and their ‘occupation’ of Afghanistan, to include Pakistan and its apparatus. This continues to have grave consequences for Pakistan.

The Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) The Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) on the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan acted as a buffer between British India and Afghanistan during the time of the British Empire. The seven tribal regions constituting FATA are still administered under the Frontier Crimes Regulation Act of 1901, introduced by the British and designed to extract an alliance of the tribes through a carrot and stick policy. The Act provides for a mix of tribal customary laws and colonial control tactics, the aim being control. The council of elders or the jirga was allowed to settle disputes without central government interference, although approved by the political agent, as long as it was not against the interests of the rulers. The same jirgas are today still seen as mechanisms to discuss challenges, provide forums for peace negotiations and settle disputes. The counter-terrorism struggle forced the Pakistan Army after 11 September 2001 to take a radical new approach – that of entering into the no-go border areas with Afghanistan – seen by many as areas providing shelter and breeding grounds for terrorists. In recent years, much of the fighting has

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taken place along the 2,250km-long porous border with Afghanistan, in which the Pakistan Army has suffered a colossal loss of its regular soldiers. The border areas are seen as particularly vulnerable, as there is a right of easement across the historical British-drawn Durand line for Pashtun families living on both sides of the porous border. This has added to the complexities of the cross-border movement of people and goods. While the Federal Government has, in its own efforts to ease tensions in the tribal areas, developed plans for economic and political development for the region, there are, however, few tangible results. Since 1996 each of the tribal agencies of FATA has had a representative in the National Parliament in Islamabad, but no mainstream political parties are allowed to operate there. This disenfranchisement of the tribes has arguably given rise to alternative structures of authority and allowed militancy to flourish. The system has also been vulnerable to corruption, with government contracts and provision of services openly used as bargaining chips to win loyalties or reward favourites. Smuggling of arms and drugs remains rampant and political agents as representatives of the state are seen to have funds at their disposal with discretion to either punish or reward. Furthermore, representatives of the Federally Administered Tribal Areas have often been manipulated by mainstream political parties. The disproportionate power wielded by the MMA, the six-party religious alliance in the North West Frontier Province (NWFP), up until the elections in February 2008, arguably patronized extremist elements to gain a stronghold in the tribal areas. While the Durand line along the Afghan–Pakistan border is not recognized by Afghanistan, Pakistan would now like to see a formal border between the two countries. For decades FATA was used as an open space to conduct activities against the communists in Afghanistan. This open space many now fear is providing the ground needed for further militancy to flourish.

The sectarian struggle In the heartland of Pakistan, the fight against the Soviets in Afghanistan provided support to Sunni Islam. The role of Saudi Arabia as mentioned above was instrumental. The rush of resources to Sunni groups in Pakistan during the 1980s led to the development of a number of Sunni militant factions – confronted on the other side by Shia groups inspired by the Iranian revolution across the western border. Pakistan in this way also became a battleground for political Islam and internal sectarianism. The result was a building up of what may be called ‘an infrastructure of militant activity’. Sunni militant groups such as Lashkar-e-Tayyiba and Jaish-e-Mohammad developed support in Afghanistan as well as internationally. This provides the backdrop to the geographical and political rise of militant Islam in Pakistan. Pakistan has therefore long had well-armed and well-financed sectarian terrorist groups. The nature and scope of sectarian violence has, however,

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altered in recent years. Towards the end of the 1990s, and with greater intensity in the aftermath of 11 September 2001, the government of Pakistan started banning a number of militant groups. Many of the banned groups resurfaced and splinter groups appeared, often with different names. Importantly, however, their modus operandi changed. After the revival of the Shia in Iraq following the US invasion, Sunni sectarian groups formed a renewed affinity with the Wahabbi/Deobandi ideology of the Taliban. Arguably, the nexus between Sunni sectarian groups, the Taliban and al-Qaeda in Pakistan has never been closer, and their geographical link takes in most of Pakistan’s major cities. Although Sunni sectarian groups perceive the war on terror as a crusade against Islam, they also recognize in a more practical way that they can generate considerable funds by being a part of the global fight against ‘the infidel crusaders of the West’. It enables the new breed of militants to believe that they are part of something bigger than local power play. This opens up a wider audience and aids recruitment – and in turn complicates disengagement. This is especially the case when there has been a loss of civilian life through US or NATO offensives in the region. After the much-reported incident of the US bombing of a madrasa in Bajaur in November 2006, which killed 82 students asleep in their beds, there was, within days, a suicide bombing which killed 42 army recruits in Dargai in a revenge attack. Air attacks which result in heavy civilian losses make it increasingly difficult to win the war of hearts and minds. What then are the factors instrumental to recruitment? These may provide insights into formulating a strategy of disengagement from terrorism for Pakistan.

Push and pull factors and a question of honour Factors which are instrumental for joining and leaving militant groups are complex. Furthermore, there is no one-way street; that is, there may be different points of entry, exit and, in some cases, re-entry. Examples given are based on interviews conducted by the authors, and stand as examples of individuals joining jihad and their subsequent disengagement from militancy. The same interviews provide suggestions for more collective forms of disengagement discussed below. The historical call for jihad in Afghanistan and ‘the national project’ of jihad in Kashmir, mentioned above, created an infrastructure for sectarian and militant groups in Pakistan. The seeds planted in the 1980s and 1990s left thousands of young people with jihadi experience, both in terms of training and equipment. Their stories were to be told and spread, and created an acceptance for both martyrdom and a violent jihad which no government has yet been able to successfully control. Furthermore, the different waves of defined ‘jihad’ in Afghanistan, Kashmir, and again Afghanistan (after the fall of Taliban and the entry of foreign forces) have all offered natural waves of engagement and consequent

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disengagement. Most recently, it has not only been Afghanistan, but also the local jihad – either against local Shiites or a perceived corrupt Americanbacked government that has played the role of the ‘enemy’. The existence of clearly defined enemies, be they sectarian groups or the US and NATO within conflict zones in the near proximity, has offered constant fuel both to the various groups operating and for readily available recruits. The abundance of young idle manpower has proven to be a useful asset for recruitment to extremist activity in the region. Reportedly, al-Qaeda and the Taliban have used funds to ‘purchase’ jihadi militants in the North West Frontier Province, Baluchistan and even from the Punjabi heartland of Pakistan, many of whom belong to poor families.6 Here both push and pull factors are at play. The offer of three meals a day and a life of honour now and in the hereafter is attractive, especially for those who are destitute and whose lives are without hope for a better future. One of those interviewed speaks of the promise of a life that would honour not only him, but also his family and the Muslim Nation. It was the promised dream of heroism, but also the dream of being able to support his family back home in Punjab that made this person at the age of 14 join the jihad in Kashmir (he later fought in Afghanistan).7 The age of recruits is on average 14 to 30 years, while some have even been as young as 12 years. Gathered in training camps, through ideological and weapons training these young minds are indoctrinated, a network and ‘togetherness’ is formed, and a belonging developed. Although they are indoctrinated in al-Qaeda ideology, a fierce anti-American agenda also draws the young jihadis together, and in this way, a clear enemy is defined.8 Increasingly both NATO and the US forces in Afghanistan are seen as ‘non-Muslim occupiers’ – while the policies of President Musharraf and his war on terror are seen as orchestrated by a kufr (non-believing) West. The motivations then for suicide bombers or ‘shaheeds’ as seen in this setting are a combination of a series of factors: a belief in martyrdom and its posthumous rewards, funds for the family, the notion of badla or revenge in the Pashtunwali code of conduct, the idea of heroism and the reward of being a part of the liberation of Islam. The violence in other Muslim lands and perceived unjust aggression against Muslim populations, such as in Iraq, continues to play a significant part in the radicalization of vulnerable individuals from neglected communities whose hope for social justice is placed squarely on radical Islamist organizations which are perceived as credible.9 The perceived hatred of the West towards Muslims is often brought up in the interviews conducted to explain the motivation and justification for action. The so-called Cartoon Crisis (2006) in Denmark and other European countries provided many of those interviewed with ‘evidence’ of this hatred, when free speech was seen to be ridiculing Islam and the Prophet Muhammad. Grave injustices and the perceived double standards of Western policies – for example the US support of Israel while it continues to occupy Palestinian

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land, build settlements and inflict collective punishment on the Palestinian population, or its refusal to recognize Hamas as a democratically elected government – are also used as justification for a violent confrontation because dialogue is seen as having produced few tangible results. One interviewee, who has now left militancy, spoke of the lack of channels for expression, and thus the resort to weapons seemed the only alternative.10 ‘When our own leaders cannot voice the opinion of true Muslims, then we have to take action ourselves, be it in taking a weapon in our own hands for justice. God will guide us – and our young men,’ said one militant leader interviewed.11 The destitution of many young men in Pakistan makes them believe that they have nothing to live for but everything to die for. This vulnerability and lack of purpose of young men in an impoverished environment is being exploited by radical clerics, who offer a narrative of easy solutions and the promise of a better future. In this way, militant groups serve as a conduit for indoctrination. Recruiters are known to unite recruits by emphasising the occupation of Muslim lands by non-Muslim occupiers and the farz or obligation of martyrdom operations. Many of those interviewed, both within groups and those who have left the militant movement, spoke of a desire to be connected to something bigger, to belong to a bigger whole, to be engaged, to identify with others who share similar interests. One former jihadi speaks of finding a family he never had, and regaining honour he could not dream of having back in his village.12 Others speak of the drive towards seeking excitement while feeling empowered and meaningful. The young men also speak of unemployment and the rumours of easy work to be acquired in the camps as reasons for joining. Public beheadings of those perceived to be American spies or those providing assistance to security forces has worked both to instil fear into local populations and to recruit young boys into manhood. Young men interviewed speak of the transition into manhood, and also of finding a purpose, a cause and a feeling of belonging to a group, when joining a militant movement.13 The social ties are important in drawing young men into new communities. Crucially, the same ties are also seen as the anchor for those who have disengaged from groups. One recurrent theme is the battle of ideas, which has come to define militant political Islam. In many of the individual stories, the narrative of both the national and the Islamic duty to fight is strong. This narrative is, however, closely coupled to the search for something bigger to believe in and fight for. The collective narrative is also passed on through those who return from the battlefield, are greeted as heroes, and looked up on as ‘real men and heroes’ with perceived moral superiority. Stories were spread about the atrocities of the enemies, the need to stand up for one’s people and the greatness felt in closeness to martyrdom. Others describe it as a rite of passage – something ‘boys did to become men’ – that was to be copied and respected. There are also other more complex factors, such as the sexual abuse of boys by powerful religious clerics. This massive breach of trust presents deep-seated

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psychological issues.14 The boys are recruited because they are deemed to be expendable. The fact that Pakistan is a socially restrictive society is highly relevant, and as such the promise of Hurs, the beautiful virgins of paradise in the purity of heaven, is appealing. The honouring of martyrs has a deep and long history in certain regions of Pakistan. Families of ‘martyrs’ are honoured as family members of someone who gave his life ‘to the cause’. Many speak of their sons’, husbands’ or brothers’ commitment, dedication and the pride felt by society. Few dare to speak of the loss and grief felt, as they know their sons were part of a ‘bigger cause’. Some, however, speak of politicians and religious leaders who ‘manipulated’ their sons, or political parties who paid, and in some cases, according to some of those interviewed, still pay, families of the martyrs’ substantial sums of money.15 It is by no means uncommon for parents to come to know of their son’s death only after a ‘suicide mission’ when ‘martyrdom funds’ are sent to them. This is all a result of a long-told narrative which needs to be challenged. Leaders interviewed also explain that recruitment lies in the power of martyrdom and the explanation that it is the greatest of honours and an enormous duty to be asked to fight in such a struggle.16 Amongst the many rewards of martyrdom is a high position in paradise for the parents of a shaheed and the right to intercede on behalf of 70 people. The process of rituals also plays a strong part in the radicalization of the young men. A suicide bomber is stripped of earthly identity in the sense that he perceives himself to be a soldier of God. In this way he can dehumanize himself, blank out family and social responsibility and focus on the world he is about to enter. On the eve of his departure a suicide bomber is treated like a saint, and blessings are obtained by the tribesmen with fanfare. In turn, his family are revered and receive financial support from the militants in the aftermath of an operation. The challenge then is to plant the seeds of disengagement without violating sacred values.

Seeds of disengagement – employment and education The tribal belt is a region of high unemployment currently running at 50 per cent, while the 15–30-year-old age group accounts for 75 per cent of the population. In spite of government promises and some recent international attention, there are not enough resources to engage this group in productive activity. Although the government has allocated funds for reconstruction and job creation, progress has been slow on both. A factor which to some extent explained the sustainable and successful disengagement for some of the individuals interviewed was the practical aspects of finding alternative livelihoods, which in turn provided hope for meaningful futures. Some had seen fighting the jihad as not only a cause but an occupation, and even to the extent that a certain salary could be sent home. Those with the least risk of return to active militancy and in rejoining

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the jihad were the ones with new jobs or businesses (such as an owner of a local gym, a tea-shop owner and a car mechanic). These are important lessons to be learnt. It is also significant that the Taliban (and related groups) pays its fighters more than double what the Afghan government pays its regular soldiers. Funds are channelled from the drugs trade and allegedly from wealthy donors in the Middle East.17 Baitullah Mehsud, a key Taliban commander in Waziristan, has boasted of having hundreds of teenage boys willing to be suicide bombers and claims he cannot ‘process’ them quickly enough. He reportedly receives 15 million Pakistani rupees per month, for the purchase of weapons and to pay compensation to the families of suicide bombers.18 Funds allegedly come from the Gulf and some militants have been known to have travelled on visas to the Middle East to raise funds. A worrying recent phenomenon is the rise in kidnappings for ransom, to bring in extra funds and encourage more such acts.19 Another factor, frequently used as an explanation by individuals both for becoming members of militant groups and for disengagement from those groups, was the simple fact that the life situation of a person had changed. Most of the people interviewed were, during their active time within militant movements, able to some degree to keep in contact with their home communities. Some therefore say that as they got married, had children and their parents got older, their own priorities changed. Social ties are therefore important in both maintaining a link to the outside world but also in encouraging a return to society. In some instances family members have been instrumental in convincing a militant to return to normal life, to settle down and build a family.20 This is a factor which has been recognized as cogent in the Saudi disengagement programme, and other case studies in this book. Central to family life is the ability to provide children with food and education. The role played here by the madaris is seen as crucial. Madaris in Pakistan have a long history of providing religious education, free board and lodging to poor children who would otherwise receive no education at all. Pakistan has a low literacy rate and less than two per cent of GDP is spent on government schools. Religious seminaries essentially fill the void created by a deficient schooling system in the public sector, and a small percentage of these madaris have been known to teach militant interpretations of Islam. The government requirement that all religious seminaries be registered with the authorities has not been properly enforced, hampering the effort for official control. At the heart of this is the Wafaqul Madaris, the federation of religious schools that regulates the curricula of 10,000 Islamic institutions and holds examinations throughout Pakistan. The Wafaqul Madaris, despite its lead role in developing curricula, has so far failed to monitor what type of religious instruction is being taught in the madaris, for example the Deobandi and Salafi versions, leading to a militant understanding of Islam. Any disengagement programme must recognize that in Pakistan, unlike the West or

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even Palestine, suicide bombers are recruited mainly from uneducated and impoverished communities, many associated with the madaris. Furthermore, there is no credible monitoring of the qualifications of teachers and their background, and many madaris continue to employ teachers with sympathies to militant interpretations of Islam. Disengagement programmes must recognize that teenagers are easily influenced by recruiters whom they consider to be on a par with madaris teachers because of their perceived knowledge of Islam. In this regard, former jihadis may be able to penetrate deeper into the psyche of young jihadis, by understanding their motivation and focusing on religious duties and rewards. Critically, to date madaris graduates can only become religious teachers. They are not provided with education or skills that will enable them to take up mainstream skilled labour employment and some are therefore, not surprisingly, opting to join a violent jihad. While the government’s reform programme seeks to introduce mainstream subjects into the curricula to ensure a more balanced education and to provide career choices, it too has failed to address the central issue of monitoring religious instruction. A number of those interviewed explained to the authors that the education received by them was the only one available and affordable. One interviewee spoke of his mother not having any choice but to send him to a local seminary. He explained that he was too young to question the teachings of the teacher; only later did he understand that there were other truths.21 Another interviewee spoke of the teaching that was received at a training camp in Afghanistan.22 He spoke of teachers coming from specific madaris, and how they served young men with one narrative, one interpretation and with simplified answers.23 Many Taliban members continue to have influence over such teachers because they themselves were a product of Deobandi religious seminaries. Education therefore remains a key question for consideration in any counter-terrorism strategy. Although the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan play a significant role as a motivating factor, a young detainee with limited education is likely to have at the forefront of his mind issues of honour and the humiliation from perceived dishonour, for abandoning the mujahidin or holy warriors. These issues must then take centre stage in both individual and collective disengagement.

Teenage soldiers The Lal Masjid episode in the first half of 2007 has reinforced the view that madaris are both a part of the problem and a part of the solution. Thousands of students, including many girls, were barricaded in the Jamia Hafsa/Lal Masjid complex together with an arsenal of weapons prepared for violent confrontation if sharia law was not imposed. Many students were linked to jihadist organizations. Since the storming of the mosque complex, which resulted in scores of deaths, terrorist attacks have increased and arsenals of weapons have been found in parts of the North West Frontier Province

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24

(NWFP). Entrusting costly lethal weapons to young militants is further endorsement of their moral and religious character by their recruiters and handlers. It is a source of pride for those who see themselves as holy warriors. The assassination of former prime minister Benazir Bhutto on 27 December 2007 highlighted again the use of child ‘soldiers’ after the arrest of more than one teenager on suspicion of being complicit in the assassination plot.25 Teenage soldiers must be the key target group for any disengagement programme in Pakistan. They are perceived to be the bulk of recruits. They are easily indoctrinated through a sense of idealism and commitment to religion without the ability to make rational and informed choices. They have also been used as unwitting accomplices of suicide attackers. The risk to terrorist organizations in recruiting children and teenagers is that if they are captured, there is a high probability that they will provide information about their cell under interrogation. The long-term psychological damage to these children is immeasurable.

The peace agreements – towards a strategy of collective disengagement At present, there are no known official deradicalization and rehabilitation programmes in Pakistan. The entry into negotiations and discussions on peace agreements may, however, be seen as attempts to broker collective forms of disengagement. Pakistan entered into peace agreements in North and South Waziristan in recognition of the fact that military operations are short term and that eventually a political solution will have to be found in dealing with the conflict. In March 2004, an offensive by the military in Waziristan resulted in the death of 600 Pakistani soldiers while many militants linked to the Taliban and al-Qaeda escaped. The first peace deal was signed within four weeks. Although the agreement was subsequently abandoned, with allegations of breach on both sides resulting in precision strikes against some militant leaders, it opened the way for the negotiation of other peace agreements in the tribal belt. The most controversial peace agreement was signed in September 2006 with the tribesmen of North Waziristan. The peace agreements are examples of unofficial collective disengagement which aims to have influence also on deradicalization processes. They must be viewed against the backdrop of tribal society. Tribal society is an honour or gharat-based society, where revenge plays an important part. The tribal system of administration is based upon the principles of merited tribesmen. These elders become representatives of their tribes in the jirgas. Central to the peace agreements have been a pledge by the tribes to expel foreign fighters. Those providing assistance to the foreign fighters risk collective punishment for the whole tribe, including demolition of homes and the payment of substantial fines. The tribes in turn have consistently requested a cessation of military operations and the withdrawal of army checkpoints.26

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Critics of the peace agreements fear that they only solidify al-Qaeda ‘safe havens’ in parts of the tribal areas, providing breathing space for al-Qaeda and the Taliban to regroup and train fighters. The various Waziristan peace agreements have broken down several times and then been reinstated after intense negotiations on both sides. Since the peace agreements were started, there has been a rapid rise in the number of soldiers kidnapped for ransom. Some tribal elders have expressed reluctance to meet the political administration for fear of reprisal attacks from the militants, a fact which only exemplifies the power of the militants in these areas. However, dialogue has been recognized as a fundamental strategy for sustainable progress towards peace and a way to stem recruitment for jihad. The Grand Pakistan/Afghanistan Jirga held in Kabul in August 2007 decided, inter alia, that there should be dialogue with the Taliban. There is now recognition on both sides of the border that military operations have only increased militancy and the loss of civilian life.

The battle of ideas Military operations in Pakistan have demonstrated that traditional counterterrorism measures such as the use of force and intelligence gathering alone can never defeat the ideological and political battles. One of the major challenges in the Pakistani context then is to change an extremist mindset drawn on its history of domestic sectarian strife and the strong national strategies on the jihads in Kashmir and against the Soviet Army in Afghanistan. These conflicts have left damaged infrastructures that are exploited by today’s militants. The battle of ideas, then, must match the offensive on the streets. Global jihadists are aware that this will be their key battleground too. Wellstructured interventions striking at the core of the militants’ ideology can significantly impact on the supply and demand of suicide bombers. The battle of ideas must be understood in the context of a Pakistan dominated by its military, which has ruled the country for more than half of its life. This has weakened democracy, retarded institution-building and created paths of alternative ideologies. Any disengagement programme must therefore win over the military mindset, which has been so instrumental in strengthening the roots of jihad during the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan and beyond. Conservative elements within the Pakistan Army have been accused repeatedly of having links with the religious right. This may now serve as a potential strength in getting across a message that the basis of religious ideology to support violent extremism is un-Islamic. The army has lost more than a thousand men in terrorist attacks inside Pakistan since it became a US ally in the ‘war on terror’. The army is in a position to encourage debate on the issue, especially during Friday sermons in mosques across the country. The aim is not to undermine sacred values but to encourage more democratic and legal channels to express opinions, and denounce the taking of innocent life, both of the victim and the perpetrator, through ‘martyrdom cults’.

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A comprehensive and sustainable approach to disengagement also requires vocal support from civil society to delegitimize suicide attacks. Politicians need to promote a debate in Parliament through the people’s elected representatives on violent extremism based upon religious ideology. This then can form the foundation for a nationwide debate, with the media and its role models playing an active role to focus on societal support for a policy of collective disengagement. The issue here is one of impact in its widest sense, which also serves to illustrate the consequences of suicide attacks on a society. Individual rehabilitation of those in detention must commence with the full support of the army leadership, the intelligence agencies, the police and paramilitary forces. Though the exact number of detainees is unknown, and in any case is likely to be fluid at any given time, the detainees are primarily from Baluchistan and the NWFP. The army as an institution has considerable experience in dealing with the various ethnic groups and tribes. Detainees are likely to respond more positively to those who have knowledge of and respect for tribal culture. Anti-American feelings in parts of the tribal belt remain strong. To minimize the risk of failure, the authorities will need to induct clerics from the tribal regions or former jihadis willing to participate in the programme. Trust is a two-way street. No detainee can be expected to be ‘turned around’ without believing and trusting the individuals responsible for ‘leading the debate’. The psychological impact of being recruited as a suicide bomber who has failed in his mission or a young person involved with terrorist organizations cannot be underestimated. The interviews conducted by the authors with former jihadis, referred to in this chapter, provide an insight into frightened and confused minds coupled with an overwhelming sense of insecurity about the future. Victims of past sexual abuse are acutely vulnerable and present a more complex picture still. The involvement of trained psychologists throughout the rehabilitation work is therefore essential. The central theme must be to get the detainee to talk. He may initially talk about the push and pull factors but he must eventually be encouraged to debate the truth of his religious beliefs as they have been presented to him. A change in mindset must come from him. It cannot and must not be imposed on him. Some detainees may have to think for themselves for the first time in their lives. The concept of ‘jihad’, so central to Pakistani politics over several decades, has been seen as a capture of the mind. The literal meaning of jihad is ‘struggle’. Islam recognizes two jihads: Jihad Al-Asghar is the minor jihad, which is also known as ‘the jihad of the sword’. It pre-supposes certain conditions and imposes specific limits. Jihad Al-Akbar is the major jihad and is known as ‘Jihad an-nafs’, implying self restraint or personal struggle. The interpretation of jihad has been seen as a vital tool for radicalization in Pakistan – used in terms of a national and religious duty. The contextual understanding of Jihad, however, can also be an essential tool for the rehabilitation of jihadis. Militant groups are known to create an awareness of

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a collective identity, that of a particular group willing to become either mujahidin or shaheeds. One of the religious leaders interviewed has started a seminary of his own outside Rawalpindi where he teaches young people what he calls ‘the true meaning of Jihad’. He runs a gym at the side of the classroom, encouraging the young men to ‘engage in healthier activity both of mind and body’.27 The Wahabbi/Salafi ideology of the Taliban and al-Qaeda refers to early Muslims, that is those who died within the first 400 years after the death of the Prophet Muhammad. Salafis advocate a ‘pure’, authoritarian Islam and the goal of an Islamic Caliphate. There is a view that, while negotiations can be held with tactical terrorists, that is those with a limited political goal, there can be no negotiations with strategic terrorists because the takfiri imprint is at the core of their strategy and they seek a Caliphate for all believers.28 Al-Qaeda itself has called for the withdrawal of foreign troops from Muslim lands, cessation from interfering in the affairs of Muslim countries and support for oppressive regimes. Ayman al-Zawahiri has repeatedly called for the overthrow of Saudi Arabia, Pakistan and Egypt for being puppets of the Americans. Many militant Islamist organizations preach that Dar al Islam, or the land that submits to Islam, can become Dar Al Kufr, or the land of infidels, and therefore a legitimate target because of un-Islamic practices, including allying themselves to western governments fighting fellow Muslims. Definitions of Dar al Islam and Dar al Kufr, however, are not found in any verse of the Qur
an or any hadith (prophetic traditions). It is arguable that there is therefore room for debate even with strategic terrorists. Sayyid Imam al-Sharif, also known as Dr Fadl, the founder of Egyptian Jihad, now argues that true jihad can only be conducted by conforming to certain preconditions (see chapter 7 of this volume by Diaa Rashwan).29 This opening up of the jihadi debate is in itself a form of collective disengagement on a global level. Respected Islamic scholars are key to this form of collective disengagement. They should be encouraged to express their views by governments, civil society and the international community. This directly threatens the practice of indoctrination behind closed doors. Those whose suicide missions have failed can equally provide significant input into an individual and collective disengagement process focusing on the motivating factors. This new hope of an internal debate is, however, challenged by the prospect of increased covert CIA operations inside Pakistan’s tribal belt, in a sort of ‘surge’ to take out alleged Taliban safe havens.30 Despite Pakistan’s increasing instability, such operations are likely to unleash a new and more lethal breed of jihadists. The unintended consequences are likely to be catastrophic in spreading insurgency and fracturing the army as an institution. Any gains are likely to be short term. Dialogue must be given a chance in the form of collective and individual disengagement programmes. Infiltration of terrorist cells and enhanced intelligence assets can contribute to a deeper understanding of the recruitment process, including the push and pull factors. It may

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also provide an insight into centralized networks and individual terrorist cells. This will be invaluable in the rehabilitation of those in detention. In the battle of ideas that has come to characterize the struggle against militant political Islam, a sharp focus falls on the interrogator as well as the personal motivations of detainees. Factors central to recruitment are also the same factors which are central to disengagement. Physical and psychological torture can inflict both pain and the disintegration of an individual’s personality. The photographs of prisoners being tortured in Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq demonstrates how counter-productive torture is. It radicalized entire Muslim communities across the globe, including in Pakistan. Iraq has shown that torture can also lead to extra-judicial killings. Victims of torture can rarely be brought before a court because of violation of their legal rights. Jihadis often expect brutality and a denial of their basic human rights if captured. Enduring brutality is often seen as a test of faith. In this context, the role of the interrogator is paramount in ‘turning around’ a militant who has failed in his mission. Some of the Guantanamo detainees who returned to Pakistan have spoken of wanting revenge against the Pakistani government for handing them over to the Americans without due process.31 They have accused the Americans of physical and psychological ill-treatment. According to Amnesty International, torture is routinely practised on detainees to extract confessions in Pakistani prisons.32 Yet, when some teenage boys in detention on suspicion of involvement in terrorism, expecting to be tortured, were instead treated with some understanding of their predicament, they broke down and cried for the first time since being ‘stranded in jihad’.33 They spoke of their fears and a desire to leave terrorism behind. Many were children who sought a normal family life.34 One such person interviewed spoke of his conviction after being released from prison of wanting to lead an ordinary life and ‘to do good again’.35 He said his neighbourhood and friends, but crucially also his time in prison meeting the right people, helped him onto that path. He requested the government to help people like him to ‘get back into society’. This demonstrates the need for a disengagement programme with long-term institutional support. From the interviews conducted by the authors, there is in all the cases of disengagement an ongoing battle of narratives. Many of those recruited were radicalized when young and during their search for a narrative to believe in. The group which radicalized them offered them such a narrative. Similarly, only when this narrative was challenged was a different truth seen. While some of the interviewees explained their growing disillusionment with the group in terms of doubting they would ever be able to reach their goals, many expressed the feeling of being exploited and used as cannon fodder. Many spoke of the active participation of family members, teachers and community elders in changing the narrative and in their re-education. While this did not happen as part of a scheme or programme, it was often the insistence of key members in the individual’s reference group which played a decisive role.

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Conclusions – elements of a strategy Pakistan is a country regarded by many as the epicentre in the fight against global terrorism. As such, it will remain central to any sustainable stability in the local, regional and global contexts. It arguably has one of the most acute problems of militancy and extremism in the world, yet it has no official programme for disengagement or rehabilitation. The spread of extremism against the backdrop of a tribal society makes this a very challenging prospect indeed and demonstrates why such a programme is essential. A comprehensive re-defining of the issues at stake requires any counter-terrorism policy to have as an integral part the building of peace by addressing legitimate grievances and promoting disengagement from terrorism. A long-term strategy must not, however, be sacrificed for short-term gains. The missing persons issue in Pakistan demonstrates that the liberty versus protection argument must be addressed in such a way that there is public confidence that the right balance is being struck.36 All intelligence and security agencies must work within the parameters of the rule of law, which must mean an end to torture and colluding with practices such as extraordinary rendition. Detainees must either be charged with criminal offences or released within a reasonable period. Similarly, although it is important to disrupt the flow of terrorist financing, Islamic charities must not be unfairly targeted because stopping funds genuinely destined for the poor may be counter-productive. Peace agreements between the government and tribesmen on their own are not the answer to defeating militancy – but they may be a step in the right direction, where negotiations take into account public sensitivities on prisoner exchanges and withdrawal of security checkpoints. History tells us that no war, especially an insurgency, can be won without the support of the people. Yet elements of the Pakistani population, and, indeed, sections of the army itself, believe that this is America’s war and that Pakistan is paying the price. This is in spite of the fact that an overwhelming proportion of the victims of terrorist attacks are Muslim civilians. The perception is reinforced by the very public demand by the US that Pakistan needs to do more. This perception needs to be challenged because Pakistan’s very existence is at stake. Collective disengagement is unlikely to succeed unless and until people support it in every town and village across the country. Public condemnation of terrorist attacks is vital. Suicide attacks must be shown to be the psychological warfare that they are: indiscriminate attacks that kill, maim and traumatize communities, perpetuating a fear of crowded places. Terrorist organizations and their justification for violence need to be discredited. The credible re-evaluating of salafi-jihadi ideology must take centre stage and will strike at the heart of the process of recruitment into violent extremism worldwide. The current environment in Pakistan is conducive to a nationwide debate through public awareness campaigns, displaying posters across Pakistan with verses from the Qur
an prohibiting terrorism and gratuitous acts of violence. In the same way that public murals and pamphlets

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honour martyrs in parts of the Middle East, these can be used to highlight the murder of innocent civilians. This may be one way to fight the battle of ideas. Disseminating information and literature through mosques, madaris and taleemi jalsas or community centres may be another. Similarly, the authorities need to address the issue of illegal FM radio stations churning out hate and promote their own radio stations to propagate the true spirit of Islam. Consideration should also be given to a national media debate. Jihadi publications, including DVDs that glorify jihad and in some cases show beheadings, could be countered by media productions on how to leave terrorism behind. Furthermore, there could be a programme along the lines of an Iraqi initiative where jihadis were encouraged to confess to their crimes and see the pain inflicted on families by being confronted by the mothers of those whom they had killed.37 Access to a continuous pool of new recruits and sympathizers is an important factor in keeping terrorist organizations alive. Any attempt at undermining terrorist organizations must therefore work on how to deprive these of human capital. This can be done by job creation, to provide an alternative means of livelihood to those on the cusp. Promised development in the tribal belt, but also in the wider Pakistani society, must be accelerated so that locals believe they have a stake in nation-building and a better future for themselves and their families. There is also an urgent need to reform the public system of education. This must include the training of teachers and overhauling the curricula. Furthermore, enforcement of madrasa registration and the monitoring of religious instruction should not be delayed. Equally urgent is the need for a rehabilitation programme for detainees with the support of the army and the law enforcement agencies. Militant groups have increasingly defined their own morality and emphasize that victory is inevitable for those willing to die for God. They are perceived to have resources, operational intelligence and logistical know-how. Those held without charge on suspicion of involvement with terrorist organizations and subsequently released into the community without rehabilitation are considered to be ‘walking time bombs’.38 Valuable lessons can be learnt from other rehabilitation programmes for jihadis from a variety of Muslim countries including Saudi Arabia and Yemen. Mutual trust and respect are key elements. A component of such a debate will be the notion of jihad – when, how and who has the right to announce it, the legitimacy of the state, and the rights of Muslim and non-Muslim civilians. Source books must inevitably be the holy Qur
an, the Sunnah and the Constitution of Pakistan. Equally important is the involvement of the family and community in disengagement to overcome feelings of isolation and guilt. So too is aftercare, that is state protection, providing skills training, assistance in obtaining employment or education. Given that those already radicalized or the many in danger of being radicalized are young men, hope through a sustainable alternative future must be at the heart of any programme. A slack approach

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to aftercare will endanger the entire programme with an attack on commitment and credibility. In the tribal areas there are a number of specific local challenges that need to be tackled. The Taliban demonstrate their power and authority by challenging both the writ of the state and the authority of tribal elders. Political agents, on the other hand, have reportedly used the Taliban to ‘manage’ their tribal agency, while no real effort has been made to strengthen the paramilitary forces and the scouts. These organizations which provide the hard shoulder to the army’s groundwork are fundamental. Turf wars of security personnel and a lack of unity of command in tribal and settled areas have contributed to low morale and confusion. Strengthening security forces and the tribal maliks, many of whom have been killed in the last three years, is therefore essential to any collective disengagement strategy. There are few interlocutors left for the government to engage with the Taliban, and as such the militants must be prevented from becoming the elite in the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) through a rapid move towards ‘talibanization’. The battle for political reforms is closely tied up with the issue of disengagement in the tribal belt. Political representation in FATA will alter the economic landscape of an area that has fallen deep into poverty and neglect. It will also change the sociopolitical landscape by pushing forward development and taking away some of the influence of the militants. The issue of political representation and the channelling of political, economic and social grievances remain concerns on a national scale. Investment in viable democratic institutions, a strong and independent judicial system, and a free media can strengthen civil society, push back extremism and ensure that legitimate grievances can be heard and addressed. The limited numbers of interviews conducted by the authors on fieldwork in Pakistan provide examples of individual disengagements from terrorist groups that may be valuable sources of information to build on. Although best practice can be learnt from disengagement programmes being conducted by other countries with problems not dissimilar from those facing Pakistan, every case is unique, and Pakistan needs to develop a programme for rehabilitation and disengagement against the backdrop of its own national, historical, religious and tribal complexities: a multifaceted approach that deals with deradicalization, disengagement and rehabilitation through public support and political will. The starting point must be to reach out to those on the cusp through a national public debate on radical Islam and the rise of violent extremism in Pakistan. One former militant spoke in despair of the lack of public debate in Pakistani society, and expressed the need to raise formerly taboo subjects on a national platform: ‘This, however, requires sustained commitment, from a political leadership that is willing to offer critical debate and practical solutions for a lost generation.’39 In this era of intervention only challenging militant interpretations of religious ideology may yet turn the tide and emerge as the beginning of a dialogue for peace.

Part III

Conclusions

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15 Conclusions Tore Bjørgo and John Horgan

A principal purpose of this volume has been to provide a better understanding of the processes and conditions under which individuals involved in terrorism disengage and terrorist campaigns come to an end. The considerations that gave rise to this volume were such that any insight generated from the volume may serve as a catalyst for policy-makers to develop and adapt more effective policies in this particular area of counter-terrorism. Relying on repressive measures alone has long been associated with ineffective counter-terrorism activity, and though this realization is no secret in today’s world, the lack of viable alternatives to repression has to date been unclear. The need to develop initiatives that more closely reflect the natural processes inherent and underpinning terrorist behaviour (at whatever level it may occur) is therefore both urgent and critical. Audrey K. Cronin puts it well in chapter 4: Comprehending the conditions under which [terrorist] groups end enables policy-makers to anticipate and take advantage of leverage points, of situations where such things as targeting mistakes, internal factional infighting or popular revulsion to groups can be exploited to facilitate their end. The key is to work synergistically with the dynamics of terrorist groups . . . In addition, we have described and assessed via the case study chapters several such policies to facilitate disengagement. However, we need to be frank in admitting that we have limited data and knowledge to illuminate the processes at an individual and group level of disengagement. Furthermore, we lack the necessary data to test whether the various programmes are actually effective (and if so, why?) as most governments and organizations running such programmes are only releasing the data they consider convenient to make public. This volume should therefore be realistically viewed as a starting point to gain systematic and comparative knowledge about the processes of disengagement and the various programmes to facilitate these processes. We still have a long way to go before we are on firm ground. In this concluding chapter, we will not simply summarize the previous chapters, but will instead reflect on some important points as a way forward.

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Challenges in promoting disengagement in counter-terrorism At no point do we attempt to promote individual and collective disengagement from terrorism as a ‘silver bullet’ in counter-terrorism. Whatever current or future incarnations of disengagement may look like in terms of expression at a programme level, it should only ever be seen as one element within a comprehensive policy in combating terrorism. What we are arguing for here is that we believe that disengagement issues are under-utilized and that we may have some potentially promising approaches at our disposal. However, we are also certainly aware of the limitations and problems involved with this strategy. One problem relates to the risk of recidivism back into terrorism or other forms of crime. Several examples illustrate this. The ‘Committee for Dialogue’ in Yemen was temporarily closed down by the authorities in 2005, partly due to several participants returning to militant activism by joining Jihad in Iraq.1 The demobilization programme for former paramilitaries in Colombia struggles with the problem that a considerable number of demobilized paramilitaries continue to be recruited into narcotrafficking gangs. In these criminal gangs, the skills they have acquired as paramilitaries have a market value, whereas their competencies are of no use in mainstream society, where formal education is required. A realistic way to counter the problem of recidivism will involve several stages: • • • •

a process of screening out insincere participants through a selection process influencing their values and behaviour monitoring ex-militants after their release, with severe sanctions for breaching conditions providing the necessary skills, resources and social networks to enable them to reintegrate into society.

A second challenge in rehabilitating individuals involved in terrorism through some forms of amnesty programmes relates to the issues of justice and the rule of law. Amnesty to individual terrorists as well as collective ‘peace processes’ may mean that those who directly caused death and suffering through the use of terrorism sometimes get away with their crimes more or less unpunished. Obviously, this ultimately causes more pain to surviving victims and their families, who have to bear the indignity of seeing those who caused their suffering walk freely in the streets. Indeed, one of the major criticisms of the otherwise successful peace process in Northern Ireland is that the interests of the victims of terrorism were rarely addressed. Thus, when large numbers of murder cases are not deemed to have been properly investigated and victimized families never got the opportunity find out who was responsible for their suffering, the long-term prospects for victim recovery and community healing are significantly hampered.

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Of course some of the main cases of collective disengagement from terrorism, such as in Northern Ireland, would probably not have taken place unless former militants were offered a large degree of amnesty or significantly reduced sentences. However, there are more constructive ways in which these issues can be addressed. First, participation in some disengagement programmes is only offered to those in supporting roles, who have not been directly involved with acts of terrorism. Those with blood on their hands are prosecuted and punished. Other programmes offer various degrees of reduced sentencing related to the degree of severity of involvement in violence, degree of renouncement of violence, and degree of cooperation with the justice system. The Italian and Colombian cases provide interesting lessons on how these dilemmas of justice, punishment and amnesty can be handled. In the latter case, restorative justice approaches, involving victims as well as perpetrators, have to some extent been applied, demonstrating that this approach could be utilized and developed further for post-terrorist situations. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of post-Apartheid South Africa offers an inspiring model of how deeply traumatized societies can come to terms with gross human rights violations.

Why should facilitating disengagement be a core element in counter-terrorism policies? Individual and collective disengagement from terrorism may reduce the economic, social and human costs of terrorism. Fighting terrorism through repressive means alone may be extremely costly in several ways. In many countries, hundreds, thousands, and even tens of thousands of individuals are imprisoned for involvement with terrorism, sometimes for an indefinite time. The economic costs are staggering; the human, social and political costs even more so. Sometimes the legal basis for incarcerating people on suspicion of involvement in terrorism is so weak that it is undermining the legitimacy of the state itself and its policy. Prisons themselves become breeding grounds for further radicalization and terrorism. Finding ways to resocialize many (if not most) of these prisoners back into society with minimal risk of recidivism should therefore be one of the goals within a comprehensive counter-terrorist strategy. A recurring theme in several of our chapters is that individuals arrested for involvement in terrorism sometimes decide to disengage or start to collaborate with the authorities partly because they are treated humanely (and were expecting the opposite). Their change of mind is more likely to be genuine and of value than anything that can be achieved by repression and mistreatment. This should not be seen as a case for ‘soft’ options. Rather the argument here is that there may be valuable opportunities to promote disengagement from terrorism by considering initiatives and approaches that may appear, on first examination, counter-intuitive.

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Promoting collective disengagement from terrorism may help end terrorist campaigns. In Northern Ireland, the Good Friday agreement led the IRA and its Protestant counterparts to eventually lay down their weapons and enter a non-violent political process. In Egypt, the two major terrorist movements, Gama  a al-Islamiya and Islamic Jihad, have reconsidered their past violent practices, and transitioned from extremist, violent brands of Islamism to become moderate, peaceful sociopolitical movements. Tens of thousands of activists involved with these two former terrorist movements have been released from Egyptian prisons during the last decade, after the two groups have disengaged collectively from terrorism. The point may appear obvious, but bringing terrorist campaigns to an end should be a major goal of counter-terrorism. The argument is made here that we explicitly must set out to explore how this may happen, and what we can do to facilitate this process. Disrupting the process of violent radicalization early in a terrorist career is far better than attempting to do so after someone has committed serious crimes and caused suffering. A broader view of prevention than the traditional approach is required. Police and intelligence agencies may consider intervening at an early stage of a terrorist plot by warning a group of radicalized young people that they are being monitored, rather than waiting until their involvement has culminated in violent activity. In some cases, letting people know that they will be arrested and prosecuted if they continue on their paths towards terrorism may be sufficient to disrupt their negative process. Unfortunately, police and intelligence agencies tend to place a higher value on prosecution than on prevention. In the conventional approach, success is measured in terms of arrests and convictions, not in terms of stopping terrorist careers at an early stage. Thus, there is a need to develop meaningful indicators of the success of preventative counter-terrorism measures in this context. Individual disengagement may reduce the number of active terrorists and the size of terrorist groups. If there are more people leaving than joining a militant movement, the movement or group will shrink in size. Thus, to impact the demographic balance of these militant movements, we should target interventions and measures towards reducing radicalization and recruitment in combination with increasing the rate of disengagement. The combined outcome will be to make the group or movement smaller and with less striking power to inflict suffering and victimization. Defectors from terrorist groups may serve as credible opinion builders against violent radicalization and terrorism. Individuals with personal experience from extremist groups may have powerful stories to tell about their disillusionment with the movement and its methods, and how they were misled or exploited.2 Due to their inherent credibility, their testimony may make a great impact on potential new recruits as well as foster doubts in otherwise ‘hard-core’ com-

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mitted existing members. Although most defectors are minor figures, in some cases important leaders and ideologues have disengaged, and make significant impact due to their experience and (former) standing in the movement. In our volume, we have provided several examples of the valuable roles they can play. Defectors from terrorist groups may provide valuable intelligence and testify in court against other terrorists. When the Italian authorities in the 1980s were able to bring an end to the left-wing terrorist campaign which had caused so much fear and suffering in Italy during the 1970s and 1980s, a major element in the strategy was a new legal framework which provided reduced sentencing for terrorists who decided to collaborate with the investigating authorities. Other significant successes emerged in Northern Ireland as a result of the ‘Supergrass’ trials. The laws provided different degrees of amnesty for different levels of collaboration. With no exit option but death or life in prison, terrorists may continue even if they realize that their struggle is lost. Providing a more acceptable way out (such as offering reduced sentences or amnesty) if they break with the terrorist path and cooperate with authorities may help to bring disillusioned individuals and groups to disengage. Pressure is necessary to make terrorists realize that they are losing but heavy repression alone may also lead to various forms of backlash.

Lessons learned from disengagement programmes and issues to address A desirable outcome of this project would be the provision of a simple formula for how to make terrorists disengage from violent activism; or at least to provide ‘best practice’ for how to develop and run a disengagement programme, applicable to any terrorist group in the world. Unfortunately, this is not possible. As stated in the Introduction, terrorism is a phenomenon that manifests itself within specific political and social contexts. The factors that drive or facilitate disengagement for each group tend to be context-specific, movement-specific and time-specific. Each programme is thus context-bound, and we ought to be cautious about over-generalizing from individual successes or failures. The strengths of particular disengagement programmes derive from their ability to meet the social needs of the ‘clients’ as well as being sensitive to their specific political and social contexts, and in addition, further derive from the ability to ascertain that the risk of re-engagement has been reduced. A programme of research to discover, for example, which principles may be generalizable across disengagement programmes, as well as what kinds of factors and principles are context-specific, would be very useful. Additionally, what merits ‘success’ in each case will also necessary reflect a particular,

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context-specific set of concerns and judgements. The fact that what may constitute ‘success’ in Yemen, for example, might not be considered acceptable by the US government may lead to significant fallout. Thus, it is clear that there will be significantly different conceptions of what constitutes success, as well as, on a broader level, what can realistically be expected from such programmes. Thus, a disengagement programme developed, for instance, to target militant Islamists in Saudi Arabia cannot be directly transplanted to another country with a different cultural, social and political context. However, the Saudi model can more easily be adapted in other Muslim countries, with at least some similarities, than to countries like Northern Ireland or Colombia, with their highly specific problems of terrorism and political contexts. Still, there are lessons learned from the Colombian programmes (e.g. their ways of involving the victims in the process of deciding on amnesty) which could be of great use to adapt in other countries with very different political situations. However, few elements can be transplanted directly, and all need to be carefully adapted to the local situation. For example, assessing risk of recidivism is rather different in Colombia (where the main temptation for ex-paramilitaries is to join drug gangs) than in Saudi Arabia. In an attempt to move forward constructively, we provide here a series of questions we deem relevant to consider when thinking about developing a disengagement programme. This list is not exhaustive; rather it is intended to both reflect on the individual contributions in this volume as well as to promote further enquiry. What are the objectives and expectations of the disengagement programme? It is of fundamental importance that disengagement programmes define their goals and expectations in clear and operational terms. If not, results will be impossible to evaluate, and resources are likely to be spent on irrelevant issues and problems. Preferably, at least some of the core goals should be possible to quantify. Such goals might be reducing the number of active terrorists; reducing the number of acts of terrorist violence; and/or reducing the number of victims of violence (killed or wounded). However, all of these are really indirect and long-term outcomes of the programme, and might even be thought of as outcomes brought about by other factors. Perhaps a more useful operational short-term goal might be to simply to ensure (ex-)militants become part of a disengagement programme, whether it be in a prison setting or elsewhere. The success of the process (at least at this stage) might be judged on the basis of such criteria as non-involvement with members of the extremist movement, non-involvement in violence or other crimes, taking an education or job training, holding a normal job, or even establishing a family and ‘settling down’. Normative issues are at the heart of the issue, though. In some disengagement programmes, accepting the legitimacy of the established

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political regime (whether that be the current ruler or the democratic system) is considered a criterion of success. Alternatively it might be argued that the problem is not radicalism as such but the use of violence to achieve radical political goals (such as promoting regime change). Thus, a possible outcome which might also be considered a (relative) success could be continued involvement in radical activism without making use of violent means – in other words disengagement from terrorism without deradicalization. Other desired outcomes from a disengagement programme might be to reduce the dependency of repressive means in counter-terrorism, or decreasing the economic and social costs of keeping a large number of terrorists in prison, or using ex-militants as opinion-builders against radicalization. However, the fact that some of these disengagement programmes are run by security agencies makes it pertinent to ask whether there are more or less hidden agendas, such as using disengagement programmes as a tool to acquire intelligence, evidence and witnesses for court cases. In any case, establishing clear goals for the disengagement programme is essential. Preferably, there should be transparency about these goals and an equally transparent and sensible cost–benefit analysis of expected inputs and outcomes.

Who is the target group(s) for the programme? It should be clear from earlier chapters that different disengagement programmes have different target groups. Some programmes target activists at large, who might be invited to voluntarily contact the programme to get help in leaving the movement and start a new future. This is the case with the Exit programmes for right-wing extremists as well as the individual part of the demobilization and reincorporation programme in Colombia (see chapters 3, 8 and 9). Most programmes target imprisoned activists, however. In some cases, only peripheral members, who have not been directly involved in violent activities, are offered a place in the programme. In other cases terrorists with blood on their hands may be included in the programme and achieve reduced sentencing if they disavow terrorist methods and start cooperating with the authorities on an investigation.3 Some programmes (typically run by security services) even specifically target leaders and ideologues of militant groups in an effort to turn them with a view to using their influence and authority to persuade the rank and file to disengage. Efforts to mobilize parents and other family members in order to reach and influence the militant activists indirectly may represent a promising complementary approach. This may be particularly effective in societies where family and elders enjoy a great measure of authority. Parental network groups have also been an effective method to reach teenage participants in racist groups, frequently leading to their eventual disengagement. Mobilizing family members may also make the resocialization process easier. Finally, some programmes mainly target sympathizers and activists who have not yet perpetrated any crimes. One goal is to facilitate an early disengagement, preventing further radicalization and to stop them

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before they cross the boundary to criminality and violence. Rather than bring about unnecessary arrests to seek prosecution, some security services put a strong emphasis on this quieter preventive approach in order to disrupt the process of violent radicalization into terrorism. Who will run the disengagement programme, and what are the consequences? Programme objectives and target groups have strong bearings on what kind of organization is best fit to run it. Disengagement programmes in a prison setting can for most practical purposes only be run by governmental agencies, although non-governmental organizations (NGOs) may play supporting roles. In other types of rehabilitation and reintegration programmes, NGOs may have some advantages compared with governmental programmes, depending, of course, on the political profile of the specific NGO. Politically ‘neutral’ or humanitarian NGOs are less likely to be identified with the ‘enemy’, making the threshold for approaching the programme lower. The main disadvantage of NGOs is their (sometimes) weak economic resources and that they have limited opportunities to monitor the behaviour of their clients. Governmental organization(s), on the other hand, usually have far more resources in terms of powers, money and personnel. Programmes run by the police or security services have particular capacities to enforce contracts with the clients and to monitor that they actually fulfil them. Governmental programmes run by the social sector (welfare agencies, educational organizations, youth workers, etc.) tend to be closer to NGO programmes in balancing the dimensions of control and trust. What will the programme offer to those entering the programme? The answer to this question will depend on the goals and target groups of the programme, and on the ‘price’ society is willing to pay for bringing terrorist campaigns and individual involvement in terrorism to an end. Many programmes offer – under specific conditions – full amnesty for crimes committed, reduced sentencing, or improved conditions in prison, such as serving with other ex-members under a lighter regime. Other programmes do not offer any of these benefits, insisting that a clean sweep of the past means that crimes have to be atoned for. Another dimension relates to training and education. Many programmes put strong emphasis on influencing the values and world-views of the participants through various forms of ideological or religious dialogue, psychological counselling or outright indoctrination. This is often combined with job training and formal education to prepare participants for rehabilitation into society. Some programmes provide economic subsidies to the participants or to their families while they are in prison, to avoid the risk that they may become dependent on economic support from the militant movement. Several programmes also provide other forms of

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assistance, such as jobs, new social networks and, in rare cases, even help to get married – of course with the purpose of tying these ex-militants up with social obligations. New identities and other measures to protect them from retribution from former comrades (or from other enemies or even their victims) are also provided in special cases. More comprehensive programmes are more likely to produce successful outcomes but we do not have firm empirical evidence to support this assumption. Obviously, more comprehensive programmes also demand more resources in terms of funding, qualified personnel and collaborative networking. Several programmes have – with some success – involved the families of participants in the resocialization process. Reformed ex-militants may also play important roles (see chapter 8). What will participants in the programme have to offer in exchange? Some programmes set up detailed contracts or other conditions participants have to fulfil in order not to be excluded from the programme. Exclusion might involve going back to prison or losing other benefits. Typically, the main precondition is to not engage in violent or criminal activities of any kind. This may or may not include avoiding contact with former comrades, involvement in radical activism or politics in general. Some programmes have made benefits (such as reduced sentencing) conditional on providing intelligence and/or witnessing in court against leaders or comrades. However, the risks that such provisions might lead to abuse or corruption of the legal process should be considered carefully.4 Other conditions are less problematic but still of great potential value, such as having to distance themselves (publicly or not) from terrorism and extremism. Dimensions of restorative justice could also be implemented in the programme, such as participants having to meet victims of terrorism, confessing their roles, and asking for forgiveness. Whether this should be mandatory or voluntary needs to be carefully considered. Taking part in activities to reduce recruitment to extremist groups or terrorism may also be part of the programme.

Conclusions and ways forward As stated at the beginning of this volume, there has been a lack of attention in counter-terrorism strategies and even a resistance in many countries to the notion of considering the possibilities of designing steps to facilitate or promote disengagement from terrorism. We have argued that there is much to be gained from considering the ways in which individuals and groups cease their involvement in violence. Recent history has shown that it is possible to bring even some of the most deep-rooted and hardened terrorist movements and campaigns to an end by combining traditional anti-terrorist interventions with initiatives to facilitate disengagement. This volume represents the first effort to produce a comparative and comprehensive study of processes and programmes of disengagement from a

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wide variety of groups and movements involved in terrorism and political violence, addressing both individual and collective dimensions. As this project developed, we brought together scholars with relevant case studies and – in parallel – presented our ideas in front of various audiences of academics and policy-makers over the past couple of years. In doing so, we were almost overwhelmed by the sudden interest in these issues. The time was obviously ripe for attempting to make explicit some of the issues inherent in this new approach. Several governments have already commissioned projects and reports aimed at exploring the prospects of deradicalization or disengagement programmes. Conferences for academics as well as for policy-makers suddenly put disengagement and deradicalization on the agenda. As we developed this volume, a number of new disengagement projects in various countries emerged, and several previously unknown programmes came to our attention. Though too late to include in this volume, we have made a decision to prepare and plan for a follow-up volume to be published in three years from now that would include these new cases. In the meantime, it is our modest hope that this volume will serve to generate some further research and new knowledge in this neglected area. We invite researchers with relevant studies and new material to make contact with us and share their experiences and ideas. What is clear is that disengagement and its related processes represent a serious gap in our knowledge and understanding. If the true potential of such knowledge in new developments in counter-terrorism is to be entertained, far more work is now needed on these issues. Clearly, a major step forward will be in assessing the feasibility of the programmes now being hailed as the ‘new weapon’ in counter-terrorism. We must carefully assess the claims for success of all disengagement programmes, and understand how the criteria for success are constructed before the prospects offered or assumed are to be judged. The case studies presented in this volume may be seen as preliminary assessments but they do not claim to be fully-fledged evaluations which can make definitive statements about the effectiveness of these programmes. In most of these cases, our researchers have had limited access and been dependent on the scarce information those in charge of the programmes wish to release. There is a great need for more transparency about the goals of the programme, the clients involved, the methods used and the outcomes – including those data which may indicate that things are not be working as well as expected. Preferably, evaluation should be an integral part of the project design rather than an afterthought. Evaluation by external experts will usually have more credibility than internal assessment but that obviously requires access to ‘unpleasant’ data. Another topic that needs to be explored further relates to the role of amnesty programmes in bringing terrorist campaigns to an end and/or facilitating individual disengagement. A number of questions need to be addressed. •

What are the goals to be achieved by the amnesty programme?

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Under what circumstances and on which conditions may offers of amnesty (or reduced sentencing) produce these desirable outcomes? Should amnesty be offered before or after a judicial process? Should offers of amnesty be time-limited? How can victims of terrorism be given a proper role in the process?

Answering these questions may be approached by comparing a number of cases where offers of amnesty have been part of counter-terrorism policies. Finally, an issue that deserves further systematic and comparative analysis relates to the promising roles of ex-militants in countering terrorism and radicalization into violence. This volume has provided several examples of the valuable roles they can play.5 The Scandinavian and German Exit projects targeting militant racists and neo-Nazis have made extensive use of ex-Nazis in prominent roles, both in guiding individuals through the process of disengagement from such movements, and in warning young people against being recruited into such groups (see chapter 8). The Egyptian case of the former leading Jihadi ideologue, Dr Sayyid Imam al-Sharif, also known as Dr Fadl (see chapter 7) is only one – albeit the most prominent one – among a series of clerics and militants once considered allies of al-Qaeda who are now turning against terrorism.6 In Indonesia, the former Jemaah Islamiyah leader Nasir bin Abas has been the figurehead of the government’s disengagement efforts and an outspoken critic of JI’s attacks on civilians. In the UK, a group of former Muslim militants in Spring 2008 established the Quilliam Foundation, a think tank devoted to counter violent radicalization among Muslims.7 Due to their ‘street cred’, based on their track records as Islamic scholars, activists and fighters, the efforts of these and other ex-jihadis have recently made a powerful impact on al-Qaeda and its allies, and their potential recruits. They have the knowledge and the credibility to debate al-Qaeda’s leaders and challenge their interpretation of Islam. Their personal experience and disillusionment with the militant movement may also serve to deter others from joining. These critics ‘from within’ may turn out to be one of the most powerful forces to bring down support for al-Qaeda and related terrorist movements. Time will tell if they are effective, but for now, their development must be encouraged.

Notes

1 Introduction 1 See Horgan, J. (2005) The Psychology of Terrorism. London: Routledge (chapter 6 – Disengaging). 2 Horgan, J. (2006) ‘Disengaging from Terrorism’. Jane’s Intelligence Review, 18 (12), 34–37. 3 Taylor, M. and Horgan, J. (2006). A Conceptual Framework for Addressing Psychological Process in the Development of the Terrorist. Terrorism and Political Violence, 18 (4). 4 For example at a conference organised by New York Police Department ‘Radicalization/De-Radicalization Workshop’ on 9–11 January 2008; and at a CTITF/ UNICRI workshop on ‘Addressing Radicalisation and Extremism that Leads to Terrorism’ on 17–18 April 2008, which also had a session on ‘de-radicalisation programmes’ in the sense of ‘effectively addressing radicalization in the prevention of terrorist acts’. 5 Bjørgo, T. (1997) Racist and Right-Wing Violence in Scandinavia: Patterns, Perpetrators, and Responses. Oslo: Tano Aschehoug (chapter 6); Horgan (forthcoming). Walking Away from Terrorism: Accounts of Disengagement from Radical and Extremist Movements. London: Routledge; Wright, S. A. (1987) Leaving Cults: The Dynamics of Defection. Washington, DC: Society for the Scientific Study of Religion. 6 Sageman, M. (2004) Understanding Terrorist Networks. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. 7 Harding, A, (2008) ‘The Bali Jihadist now on a peace mission’, BBC News, 14 March 2008, (accessed 25 July 2008). 8 See Horgan (2005), chapter 6. 9 Our own first attempt to develop this approach on disengagement from terrorist groups was Bjørgo, T. & Heradstveit, D. (1993) Politisk terrorisme. Oslo: Tano (see especially pp. 92–104, 155–66). In that book, the perspective on entry, isolation, and exit options was applied specifically to case studies of the German Rote Armee Fraktion (RAF) and, to a lesser extent, the Swedish Vitt Ariskt Motstånd (VAM). 10 Jaeger, H., Schmidtchen, G. and Süllwold, L. (1981) Lebenslauf-analysen, Vol. 2, (Analysen zum Terrorismus). Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag; Steiner, A. and Debray, L. (1987) La Fraction Armée Rouge: Guërilla Urbaine en Europe Occidentale. Paris: Méridens Klincksieck; Jamieson, A. (1989) The Heart Attacked: Terrorism and Conflict in the Italian State. London/New York: Marion Boyars; Jamieson, A. (1990) ‘Entry, Discipline and Exit in the Italian Red Brigades’,

Notes

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15 16 17 18 19 20

21 22 23

24 25 26

27 28 29

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Terrorism and Political Violence Vol. 2, No 1; Rapoport, D. (ed.) (2001) Inside Terrorist Organisations. London: Frank Cass. Rapoport, D (2002) ‘The Four Waves of Rebel Terror and September 11. Anthropoetics 8, no. 1 (accessed 25 July 2008). Taylor, M. and Quayle, E. (1994) Terrorist Lives. London: Brassey’s. Wasmund, K. (1986) ‘The Political Socialisation of West German Terrorists’. In: P.H. Merkl (ed.) (1986) Political Violence and Terror: Motifs and Motivations Berkeley and LA: University of California Press. Crenshaw, M. (1991) ‘How Terrorism Declines’, Terrorism and Political Violence, Vol. 3, No. 1 (Spring 1991), pp. 69–87. Wright, S.A. 1987 (note 5); Wright (1983) ‘Defection from New Religious Movements: A Test of Some Theoretical Propositions’, in D.G. Bromley and J.T. Richardson (eds., 1983), The Brainwashing/Deprogramming Controversy: Sociological, Psychological, Legal and Historical Perspectives. New York and Toronto: The Edwin Mellen Press. Hirschman, A.O. (1970) Exit, Voice, and Loyalty: Responses to Decline in Firms, Organizations and States. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Crenshaw (note 13). Ross, J.I. and Gurr, T.R. ‘Why Terrorism Subsides: A Comparative Study of Canada and the United States,’ Comparative Politics, Vol. 21, No. 4 (July 1989), pp 405–26. Rapoport (note 10). Cronin, A.K. (2006) ‘How al-Qaida Ends: The Decline and Demise of Terrorist Groups’. International Security, Vol. 31, No. 1, pp. 7–48. Horgan (note 1); also Horgan, J. (2003) ‘Leaving Terrorism Behind’. In: A. Silke (Ed.) Terrorists, Victims and Society: Psychological Perspectives on Terrorism and its Consequences. London: John Wiley; Horgan, J. (2006) ‘Disengaging from Terrorism’, Jane’s Intelligence Review, December 2006, pp. 34–7. Jamieson (note 10). For example, Ebaugh, H.R. (1988) Becoming an Ex: The Process of Role Exit. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Huff, C.R. (ed.) (1990) Gangs in America. Newbury Park: Sage, 1990. Huff, C.R. (1996) Gangs in America, 2nd edition. Newbury Park: Sage, 1996; Short, J.F. (1990) ‘New Wine in Old Bottles: Change and Continuity in American Gangs’, in Huff (1990); Miller, W.B. (1990) ‘Why the United States Has Failed to Solve Its Youth Gang Problem’, in Huff (1990); Decker, S.H. and van Winkle B. (1996). Life in the gang: Family, friends, and violence. New York: Cambridge University Press; Decker, A.H. and Weerman, F.M. (2005) European Street Gangs and Troublesome Youth Groups. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers. Cohen, A.K. (1955) Delinquent Boys: The Culture of the Gang. New York: The Free Press. Klein, M.W. (1995) The American Street Gang, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Gottfredson, M. and Hirschi, T. (1986) ‘The True Value of Lambda Would Appear to be Zero: An Essay on Career Criminals, Criminal Careers, Selective Incapacitation, Cohort Studies, and Related Topics’. Criminology, Vol. 24, No. 2; Barnett, A., Blumstein, A. and Farrington, D.P. (1987) ‘Probabilistic Models of Youthful Criminal Careers’, Criminology Vol. 25, No. 1. Chambliss, W.J. (1973) ‘The Saints and the Roughnecks’, Society, (November/ December 1973). Decker, S. and Lauritsen, J. (1996) ‘Breaking the Bonds: Leaving the Gang’. In: Huff (1996); Decker & van Winkle (note 23). Decker, S. and Lauritsen, J. (1996) ‘Breaking the Bonds: Leaving the Gang’. In: Huff (1996).

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30 Vigil, J.D. (1988). ‘Group processes and street identity: Adolescent Chicano gang members’, Ethos, Vol. 16, No. 4, pp. 421–45. 31 Thornberry, T.P., Huizinga, D. and Loeber R. (2004) The Causes and Correlates Studies: Findings and Policy Implications. Juvenile Justice, Volume 9, Number 1 (September 2004). 32 For a review of research on leaving gangs see Greene, J. and Pravis, K. (2007) Gang Wars: The Failure of Enforcement Tactics and the Need for Effective Public Safety Strategies. Washington, DC: Justice Policy Institute. (pp. 46–50). 33 Laub, J.H. and Sampson, R.J. (2001) Understanding Desistance from Crime. Crime and Justice, Vol. 28, pp. 1–69; Loeber, R. and Le Blanc, M. (1990), Toward a Developmental Criminology, in Tonry, M. and Morris N., Crime and Justice: An Annual Review, vol. 13, pp. 1–98, Chicago, University of Chicago Press. 34 Maruna S. (2001) Making Good: How Ex-Convicts Reform and Rebuild Their Lives. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association Books. 35 Gottfredson and Hirschi (note 26), p. 141. 36 Glueck, S. and Glueck E. (1974) Of Delinquency and Crime. Springfield, IL: Charles S. Thomas. 37 Weitekamp, E. and Kerner, H.J. (1994, eds.) Cross-National Longitudinal Research on Human Development and Criminal Behaviour. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers; Laub and Sampson (2001, note 33). 38 Sutherland, E. (1939) Principles of Criminology. Philadelphia: Lippincott. Edwin Sutherland developed the notion of differential association as a general theory of crime and delinquency that explains how deviants come to learn the motivations and the technical knowledge for deviant or criminal activity. He claimed that the development of habitual patterns of criminality arises from association with those who commit crime rather than with those who do not commit crime. 39 Akers, R.L. (1998). Social learning and social structure: a general theory of crime and deviance. Boston: Northeastern University Press. 40 Cornish and Clarke (1986). Situational prevention, displacement of crime and rational choice theory. In: Heal, K. and Laycock, G. (eds.) Situational crime prevention: From theory into practice, London: HMSO, pp. 1–16. 41 Richardson, J.T. (1983) ‘The Brainwashing/Deprogramming Controversy: An Introduction’, in Bromley and Richardson (note 14), pp. 8–9; Kaplan, J. (1993) ‘The Anti-Cult Movement in America’, SYZYGY: Journal of Alternative Religion and Culture, Vol. 2, Issues 3–4 (Summer/Fall 1993), pp. 267–96. 42 Bromley and Richardson (1983, note 14); Skonovd, N. (1983) ‘Leaving the “Cultic” Religious Milieu’, in Bromley and Richardson (note 14); Bromley, D.G. (ed.) (1988) Falling from Faith: Causes and Consequences of Religious Apostasy. Newbury Park: Sage. 43 Wright (1988: 151–2), note 5. 44 Wright, S.A. (1988) ‘Leaving New Religious Movements: Issues, Theory and Research’, in Bromley (note 43), pp. 148–9; Rothbaum, S. (1988) ‘Between Two Worlds: Issues of Separation and Identity After Leaving a Religious Community’, in Bromley (note 43), pp. 222, 227. 45 Aho, J.A. (1994) This Thing of Darkness: A Sociology of the Enemy. Seattle and London: University of Washington Press. 46 Fangen, K. (1995) Skinheads i rødt, hvitt og blått: En sosiologisk rapport fra ‘innsiden’. Oslo: UNGforsk Rapport No. 4, 1995, pp. 91–127; Fangen, K. (1999) Pride and Power – A Sociological Interpretation of the Norwegian Radical Nationalist Underground Movement. Dept. of Sociology and Human Geography, University of Oslo. 47 Fangen, K. (1999) Pride and Power – A Sociological Interpretation of the Norwegian Radical Nationalist Underground Movement. Dept. of Sociology and Human

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Geography, University of Oslo; Fangen, K. & Eiternes, T. (2002) Bak nynazismen. Oslo: Cappelen. Bjørgo (note 5); also Bjørgo, T. (2002a) ‘Rassistische Gruppen: Die Anwerbung reduzieren und den Aussteig fördern’, Journal für Konflikt- und Gewaltforschung / Journal for Conflict and Violence Research, Vol. 4, 1/2002 (pp. 5–31); Bjørgo, T. (2002b) ‘Exit Neo-Nazism: Reducing Recruitment and Promoting Disengagement from Racist Groups’. NUPI Paper 627 (June 2002). BRÅ (2001). Exit för avhoppare: En uppföljning och utvärdering av verksamheten åren 1998–2001. Stockholm: BRÅ-rapport 2001:8 Kassis, W and Mäder, U (2007) Rechtsextreme Jugendliche: Aussteigsmotivation und familiäre Sozialisation. Tangram (19), Bern: Erdgenössische Kommission für Rassismus. Grunenberg, S. and van Donselaar, J. (eds.) (2006) ‘Deradicalisation: Lessons from Germany, options for the Netherlands?’ In van Donselaar, J. and Rodrigues, P.R. (2006) Racism & Extremism Monitor: Seventh Report. Amsterdam: Anne Frank Stichting; Leiden: Department of Public Administration, Leiden University.

2 Individual disengagement: a psychological analysis 1 Notable examples include Jamieson, A. (1989) The Heart Attacked: Terrorism and Conflict in the Italian State. London: Marian Boyers; Jamieson, A. (1990) Entry, discipline and exit in the Italian Red Brigades. Terrorism and Political Violence, 2 (1), 1–20; Oots, K.L. (1989) Organisational Perspectives on the formation and disintegration of terrorist groups. Terrorism, 12, 139–52; Crenshaw, M. (1991) ‘How Terrorism Declines’, Terrorism and Political Violence, Vol. 3, No. 1 (Spring), p. 73; ‘How Terrorism Ends,’ United States Institute of Peace, Special Report 48. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace, May 25, 1999; Ross, J.I. and Gurr, T.R. ‘Why Terrorism Subsides: A Comparative Study of Canada and the United States,’ Comparative Politics, Vol. 21, No. 4 (July 1989), pp. 407–8. For a more recent treatise, see Audrey Cronin’s ‘How al-Qaida Ends: The Decline and Demise of Terrorist Groups,’ International Security, Vol. 31 No. 1 (Summer 2006), pp. 7–48. 2 Horgan, J. (2003) ‘Leaving Terrorism Behind: An Individual Perspective’. In A. Silke (Ed.) Terrorists, Victims and Society: Psychological Perspectives on Terrorism and its Consequences. London: John Wiley. 3 Horgan, J. (2006) Disengaging from Terrorism. Jane’s Intelligence Review, 18 (12), 34–7. 4 For an exceptional example of the kind of research facilitated by changes since the Peace Process, see Rogelio Alonso’s The IRA and Armed Struggle (London: Routledge, 2007). 5 For example, the Quilliam Foundation at http://www.quilliamfoundation.org. It is described as a ‘counter-extremist think tank created by former activists of radical Islamist organisations’. 6 Cordes, B. (1987) ‘Euroterrorists talk about themselves: a look at the literature’, in P. Wilkinson and A.M. Stewart (eds), Contemporary Research on Terrorism (pp. 318–36). Aberdeen: Aberdeen University Press. This volume remains one of the most important cornerstone texts any student of terrorism can ever read. 7 In Silke, A. (2003) Terrorists, Victims and Society: Psychological Perspectives on Terrorism and its Consequences. John Wiley: London. 8 Dingley, J. (1999) ‘Peace processes and Northern Ireland: Squaring circles?’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 11(3), 32–52. 9 Since 2006, I have conducted interviews with former terrorists and other activists from over a dozen movements worldwide. The interviews are part of an ongoing, long-term project on how and why individuals leave terrorism behind, the personal

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accounts from these interviews forming the content of a research database at the Pennsylvania State University’s International Center for the Study of Terrorism. See Horgan, J. (2005) The Psychology of Terrorism. New York: Routledge. A point regularly asserted by Martha Crenshaw’s works in the 1980s and 1990s. Horgan, J. (2006) ‘Understanding Terrorism: Old Assumptions, New Assertions, and Challenges for Research’, in J. Victoroff (ed.) Tangled Roots: Social and Psychological Factors in the Genesis of Terrorism (Amsterdam: IOS Press), pp. 74–84. Reich, W. (ed.). (1990) Origins of Terrorism: Psychologies, Ideologies, Theologies, States of Mind. New York: Cambridge University Press. Zubeck, P. ‘Cadets’ guest speaker will focus on Christianity’, Colorado Springs Gazette. See Horgan, J. (forthcoming) Walking Away from Terrorism: Accounts of Disengagement from Radical and Extremist Movements. London: Routledge. Sheehan, M. (2006) ‘The former Republicans who are now big fat cats’, Sunday Independent, February 5. Garfinkel, R. (2007) ‘Personal Transformations: Moving From Violence To Peace’, United States Institute of Peace Special Report, 186, April. Ebaugh, H.R.F. (1988). Becoming an Ex: The Process of Role Exit. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. See Ripley, A. (2008) ‘Reversing Radicalism’. Time magazine. This is taken from a translated copy of Patrizio Peci’s autobiographical I, the Contemptible One detailing his involvement in the Red Brigades, as told to Bruno Guerri, Arnoldo Mondadori, Milan: Editore S.P.A. (1983, translation 1985 by the Foreign Broadcast Information Service). I am very grateful to Jerry Post for providing me with this example. Collins, E. (with M. McGovern) (1997) Killing Rage. London: Granta. Nasiri, O. (2006) ‘Focus: My life as a spy at the heart of Al-Qaeda,’ The Sunday Times, 19 November, pp. 14–15. For a detailed case study and first-hand interview with Abbas, see Horgan, J. (forthcoming) Walking Away from Terrorism: Accounts of Disengagement from Radical and Extremist Movements. New York: Routledge. Ibid. Interview conducted by the author, December 2006. Interview conducted by the author, December 2006. Horgan, J. (2003) ‘Leaving Terrorism Behind: An Individual Perspective’. In A. Silke (Ed.). Terrorists, Victims and Society: Psychological Perspectives on Terrorism and its Consequences. London: John Wiley. Horgan, J. (2005) The Psychology of Terrorism. New York: Routledge. See chapters 5 and 6 in particular. Debray, R. (1967) Revolution in the Revolution. New York: MR Press. Interview conducted by the author. For a detailed case study and first-hand interview with this person, see Horgan, J. (forthcoming) Walking Away from Terrorism: Accounts of Disengagement from Radical and Extremist Movements. New York: Routledge. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Roberts, K. and Horgan, J. (2008) ‘Risk Assessment and the Terrorist’, Perspectives on Terrorism, 2, 6, March, 3–9.

3 Processes of disengagement from violent groups of the extreme right 1 See T. Bjørgo (1997) Racist and Right-Wing Violence in Scandinavia: Patterns, Perpetrators, and Responses. Oslo: Tano Aschehoug, pp. 53–71 for a typology.

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The entry or recruitment phase has been discussed more comprehensively in some of my earlier works. The main publication is T. Bjørgo (1997), in particular chapter 6. Some of these issues were followed up in a later study, T. Bjørgo, Y. Carlsson and T. Haaland (2001) Polarisert hat, generaliserte fellesskap: Om konflikter mellom ungdomsmiljøer i en norsk by. Oslo: NIBRs pluss-serie, 4/2001, and Bjørgo, T. (2005) Conflict Processes between Youth Groups in a Norwegian City: Polarization and Revenge. European Journal of Crime, Criminal Law and Criminal Justice, Vol. 13/1, 2005. An earlier and somewhat different version of this chapter was published as T. Bjørgo (1998) ‘Entry, Bridge-burning and Exit Options: What happens to young people who join racist groups – and want to leave?’, in J. Kaplan and T. Bjørgo (eds), Nation and Race: The Developing Euro-American Racist Subculture. Boston: Northeastern University Press (parts reprinted with permission). 3 Some of these interviews have been relatively brief (1–2 hours); others have consisted of a series of interviews over a long period (ranging from six months to seven years), in several cases totalling 15 to 30 hours of conversation. My interviews with (potential) leave-takers were part of larger series of interviews with present and former nationalist and neo-Nazi activists, and with persons involved with them in various capacities (political opponents, police officers, youth workers, victims of violence and harassment, academic researchers, journalists and others). The interviews took place in Norway, Denmark and Sweden, and were mainly conducted in four periods: 1988–9, 1991–2, 1995–7, and in 2001. 4 (Auto)biographies by or about racist activists which focus on why and how the individuals in question join and leave the racist group or scene may constitute useful empirical data. Taken alone, they remain idiosyncratic case studies, but by comparing the experiences of these individuals to similar or different cases, these stories may contribute to more building general insight. See e.g. Ray Hill with Andrew Bell (1988) The Other Face of Terror: Inside Europe’s Neo-Nazi Network. London: Grafton Books; Ingo Hasselbach and Winfried Bonengel (1993) Die Abrechning. Ein NeoNazi steigt aus. Berlin und Weimar: Aufbau-Verlag; Ingo Hasselbach with Tom Reiss (1996) Führer-Ex: Memoirs of a Former Neo-Nazi. London: Chatto and Windus; Kevin Flynn and Gary Gerhardt (1989) The Silent Brotherhood: Inside America’s Racist Underground. New York: The Free Press; Kent Lindahl (2000): Exit: Min Väg bort från nazismen. Stockholm: Norstedts förlag; Katrine Fangen and Tom Kimmo Eiternes (2002) Bak nynazismen. Oslo: Cappelen. 5 I have also profited greatly from studies of disengagement from right-wing extremist groups by the Norwegian sociologist Katrine Fangen (1995) Skinheads i rødt, hvitt og blått: En sosiologisk rapport fra ‘innsiden’. Oslo: UNGforsk Rapport No. 4, pp. 91–127; K. Fangen (1999) Pride and Power – A Sociological Interpretation of the Norwegian Radical Nationalist Underground Movement. Dept. of Sociology and Human Geography, University of Oslo. 6 For a more thorough discussion, see T. Bjørgo, ‘Role of the Media in Racist Violence’, in Bjørgo and Witte (1993) Racist Violence in Europe. Basingstoke: Macmillan. 7 A similar observation has been made concerning individuals who join a Hare Krishna commune. Fifty per cent left within the first month, but only ten per cent left after having lived there for more than a month. Cf. T. Pilarzyk (1983) ‘Conversion and Alienation Processes in the Youth Culture: A Comparative Analysis of Religious Transformations’, in Bromley and Richardson (eds) (1983) The Brainwashing/Deprogramming Controversy: Sociological, Psychological, Legal and Historical Perspectives. New York and Toronto: The Edwin Mellen Press (pp. 61–2). 8 For a more general discussion of these processes of paranoia, group pressure and conformity in relation to terrorist and other clandestine organisations, see

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T. Bjørgo and D. Heradstveit (1992), Politisk terrorisme. Oslo: Tano, pp. 92–104 and 155–66. Paranoia is also discussed by Katrine Fangen (1995), p. 82, and Heléne Lööw (1993) ‘The Cult of Violence – The Swedish Racist Counterculture’, in Bjørgo and Witte (1993). In September 1995, two ‘prospects’ of the Viking group in Oslo smashed the windows of the house of a leftist politician outside Tønsberg. They explained to the police that they did it in order to be accepted as full members. There have been several similar cases in Sweden, e.g. those referred to in a verdict in Klippans Tingsrett, Dom DB 222 B 196/92. See also T. Bjørgo (1993), ‘Militant NeoNazism in Sweden’, Terrorism and Political Violence, Vol. 5, No. 3 (Autumn 1993), pp. 50–2. Fangen (1995), p. 102, my translation. Interview with activist, 19 September 1995. Interview with a young Norwegian nationalist, 18 August 1995. This distinction between push and pull factors was also applied by J. Aho (1994) This Thing of Darkness: A Sociology of the Enemy. Seattle and London: University of Washington Press, pp. 12–78. This is a common observation in studies of defectors from religious groups, but has also been noted by Aho (1994), p. 125, with respect to racist groups. Cf. Decker and Lauritsen (1996) ‘Breaking the Bonds: Leaving the Gang’, in: C.R. Huff (1996) Gangs in America, 2nd edition. Newbury Park: Sage, pp. 109–10, 117,121–2. Based on several interviews with Zorn 88 spokesman Erik Rune Hansen. For a revealing discussion of internal conflicts and the lack of interpersonal loyalty in Norwegian nationalist groups, see Katrine Fangen (1995), p. 89. Interview held on 14 November 1995 with an activist who broke with the group a few months later. Boot Boys No. 10, October 1991. See a nasty article in Riis-Knudsen’s old journal National-Socialisten (Vol. 10, No. 3, 1993), titled ‘Familiepolitik på ar(ab)isk’, where his previous followers give their judgement on the character of their former leader. ‘Ageing out’ is also one of the most important factors in bringing criminal careers to an end. See discussion on ‘Desistance from crime’ in the Introduction (chapter 1). A couple of cases of killing defectors are known from Germany. See Der Spiegel 20:1996; and I. Hasselbach, with T. Reiss (1996). Führer-Ex: Memoirs of a Former Neo-Nazi. London: Chatto and Windus, p. 320. For a near-fatal US case, see Mark S. Hamm (1993) American Skinheads. Westport: Praeger, p. 57. Interview (07.09.95) with former leader of the Viking group in Oslo. Interview (12.02.01) with a former core member of a neo-Nazi skinhead group in Kristiansand, Norway. See excerpts from interview in T. Bjørgo, Y. Carlsson and T. Haaland (2001) Generalisert hat – polariserte fellesskap: Om konflikter mellom ungdomsmiljøer i en norsk by. Oslo: NIBRs Pluss-serie, 4/2001, pp. 122–4. J. Horgan (2005) The Psychology of Terrorism. London: Routledge. See Bjørgo, Carlsson and Haaland (2001), pp. 121–5. See Bjørgo (1998), p. 249 for an illustrative case. During the mid-1990s, there were several such exposures of prominent people with dark Nazi or fascist pasts in Sweden, including a top diplomat, the lead singer of the successful pop group ‘Ace of Base’, and the founder of the Ikea furniture chain. M. Crenshaw (2001) ‘Theories of Terrorism: Instrumental and Organizational Approaches’, in D.C. Rapoport (2001) Inside Terrorist Organizations. London: Frank Cass. Factors behind mass defections from religious groups are discussed by S. Wright (1988) ‘Leaving New Religious Movements: Issues, Theory and Research’, in

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Bromley, D.G. (ed.) (1988) Falling from Faith: Causes and Consequences of Religious Apostasy. Newbury Park: Sage, pp. 156–7. Lööw (1993), p. 74; Wright (1988), pp. 151–2. This is based on information from one of the core ‘founding members’ of Valkyria who later left the movement. Police and other sources who have followed the group closely have confirmed the general pattern, although they are not in a position to confirm the actual figures. The two Valkyria groups were split (but continued to cooperate) because the girls in Drammen Valkyria would not take orders from the male leader of the Viking group, whereas the Viking Valkyrias would. The turnover rate was an issue discussed among the core members, partly because they had been accurately forewarned by a more experienced activist when they started up that they should expect that at least 75 per cent of the recruits would quit. Cf. J. Aho (1994), pp. 125–8. The Council of Europe’s ‘European Youth Campaign Against Racism, Xenophobia, Antisemitism and Intolerance’ and the European Union’s ‘European Year Against Racism 1997’ are prime examples of this approach.

4 How terrorist campaigns end *

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Parts of this article are drawn, with permission, from the author’s ‘How al-Qaida Ends: The Decline and Demise of Terrorist Groups’, International Security, Vol. 31 No. 1 (Summer 2006), pp. 7–48. These arguments are further developed in the author’s How Terrorism Ends: Lessons from the Decline and Demise of Terrorist Campaigns, Princeton University Press, forthcoming 2008. See, for example, ‘CIA Chief Has “Excellent Idea” Where bin Laden Is’, 22 June 2005 (accessed 31 July 2008). Andrew Silke, ‘An Introduction to Terrorism Research’, in Silke (ed.) (2004) Research on Terrorism: Trends, Achievements and Failures. London: Frank Cass, pp. 1–29. Andrew Silke, ‘The Road Less Travelled: Recent Trends in Terrorism Research’, in Silke, Research on Terrorism, p. 191. Ibid., pp. 208–9. Martha Crenshaw, ‘How Terrorism Declines’, Terrorism and Political Violence, Vol. 3, No. 1 (Spring 1991), p. 73; and Jeffrey Ian Ross and Ted Robert Gurr, ‘Why Terrorism Subsides: A Comparative Study of Canada and the United States’, Comparative Politics, Vol. 21, No. 4 (July 1989), pp. 407–8. Examples of articles on the drivers of terrorism include Michael Mousseau, ‘Market Civilization and Its Clash with Terror’, International Security, Vol. 27, No. 3 (Winter 2002/03), pp. 5–29; and Audrey Kurth Cronin, ‘Behind the Curve: Globalization and International Terrorism’, International Security, Vol. 27, No.3 (Winter 2002/03), pp. 30–58. See also ‘Correspondence: The Sources of Terrorism’, International Security, Vo. 28, No. 2 (Fall 2003), pp. 192–8. For more on this argument, especially as it relates to the causes of terrorism, see Audrey Kurth Cronin, ‘Sources of Contemporary Terrorism’, in Cronin and James M. Ludes (eds), Attacking Terrorism: Elements of a Grand Strategy, edited by Audrey Kurth Cronin and James M. Ludes (Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 2004), pp. 19–45, especially p. 22. See United States Institute of Peace, ‘How Terrorism Ends’, special report 48 (Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace, 25 May 1999), especially the overview section written by Martha Crenshaw, pp. 2–4. For example, Bruce Hoffman compares al-Qaeda to the archetypal shark that must continue swimming to survive. See, for example, ‘Al-Qaeda Broken, but Dangerous’, Christian Science Monitor, 24 June 2002, csmonitor.com. See also

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Martha Crenshaw, ‘Decisions to Use Terrorism: Psychological Constraints on Instrumental Reasoning’, International Social Movements Research, Vol. 4, 1992, pp. 29–42; cited by Randy Borum, ‘Psychology of Terrorism’, monograph (Tampa: University of South Florida, 2004), p. 62. Among numerous sources on these subjects, see Martha Crenshaw, ‘The Psychology of Terrorism: An Agenda for the Twenty-first Century’, Political Psychology Vol. 21, No. 2 (June 2000), pp. 405–20; Martha Crenshaw, ‘The Logic of Terrorism’, and Jerrold Post, ‘Terrorist Psycho-Logic’, in Walter Reich, Origins of Terrorism (Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 1990; second edition 1998), pp. 7–24 and 25–40. This approach is well established in criminology and intelligence analysis. See, for example, Irene Jung Fiala, ‘Anything New? The Racial Profiling of Terrorists’, Criminal Justice Studies, Vol. 16, No. 1 (March 2003), pp. 53–8; Rex A. Hudson, Who Becomes a Terrorist and Why: The 1999 Government Report on Profiling Terrorists (Guilford, Conn.: The Lyons Press, no date); and Paul R. Pillar, ‘Counterterrorism after Al-Qaeda’, Washington Quarterly, Vol. 27, No. 3 (Summer 2004), p. 105. As Pillar points out, the Transportation Security Administration already uses profiling to screen airline passengers (ibid., p. 105). See, for example, Alan Krueger and Jitka Maleckova, ‘Education, Poverty, Political Violence, and Terrorism: Is There a Causal Connection?’ working paper no. 9074 (Cambridge, Mass.: National Bureau of Economic Research, July 2002), p. 2; Alan Richards, ‘Socio-economic Roots of Radicalism? Towards Explaining the Appeal of Islamic Radicals’, monograph written for the Strategic Studies Institute, Army War College, July 2003, available at http:// www.strategicstudiesinstitute.army.mil/pubs/display.cfm?PubID=105 (accessed 31 July 2008); Daniel Pipes, ‘God and Mammon: Does Poverty Cause Militant Islam?’ National Interest No. 66 (Winter 2001/2002) pp. 14–21; and Gary T. Dempsey, ‘Old Folly in a New Disguise: Nation Building to Combat Terrorism’, Policy Analysis, no. 429 (21 March 2002). See, for example, Leonard Weinberg and William Lee Eubank, ‘Leaders and Followers in Italian Terrorist Groups’, Terrorism and Political Violence, Vol. 1, No. 2 (April 1989), pp. 156–76. For organizational analysis of terrorist groups see David C. Rapoport, ed., Inside Terrorist Organizations, 2nd ed. (London: Frank Cass, 2001). Martha Crenshaw, ‘Theories of Terrorism: Instrumental and Organizational Approaches’, ibid., pp. 19–27. See, for example, Ian O. Lesser, Bruce Hoffman, John Arguilla, David Ronfeldt and Michele Zanini, Countering the New Terrorism (Santa Monica, Calif.: RAND, 1999); John Arquilla and David F. Ronfeldt (eds), Networks and Netwars: The Future of Terror, Crime, and Militancy (Santa Monica, Calif.: RAND. 2001); Ray Takeyh and Nikolas Gvosdev, ‘Do Terrorist Networks Need a Home?’ Washington Quarterly, Vol. 25, No. 3 (Summer 2002) pp. 97–108; and Matthew Levitt, ‘Untangling the Terror Web: Identifying and Counteracting the Phenomenon of Crossover between Terrorist Groups’, SAIS Review, Vol. 24, No. 1 (Winter–Spring 2004), pp. 33–48. Steve Coll and Susan B. Glasser ‘Terrorists Turn to the Web as Base of Operations’, Washington Post, 7 August 2005; Craig Whitlock, ‘Briton Used Internet As His Bully Pulpit’, Washington Post, 8 August 2005; and Susan B. Glasser and Steve Coll, ‘The Web as Weapon: Zarqawi Intertwines Acts on Ground in Iraq with Propaganda Campaign on the Internet’, Washington Post, 9 August 2005. US Institute of Peace, How Terrorism Ends, p. 1. David Rapoport, ‘Terrorism’, in Mary Hawkesworth and Maurice Kogan (eds), Routledge Encyclopedia of Government and Politics, Vol. 2 (London: Routledge, 1992), p. 1067. This claim admittedly needs to be updated. A good study of the

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lifespan of terrorist organizations, including those that gained purchase in the 1990s, is still waiting to be written. In discussing the longevity of terrorist groups, Martha Crenshaw notes only three significant such groups with ethnonationalist ideologies that ceased to exist within ten years of their formation (one of these, EOKA, disbanded because its goal – the liberation of Cyprus – was achieved). By contrast, a majority of the terrorist groups she lists as having existed for ten years or longer have recognizable ethnonationalist ideologies, including the IRA (in its many forms), Sikh separatist groups, Euskadi Ta Askatasuna, various Palestinian nationalist groups, and the Corsican National Liberation Front. See Crenshaw, ‘How Terrorism Declines’, Terrorism and Political Violence, Vol. 3, No. 1 (Spring 1991), pp. 69–87. David C. Rapoport, ‘Fear and Trembling: Terrorism in Three Religious Traditions’, American Political Science Review, Vol. 78 (1984), pp. 658–77. Rapoport asserts that before the nineteenth century, religion was the only acceptable cause for terrorism, providing a transcendent purpose that rose above the treacherous and petty political concerns of man. Crenshaw, ‘How Terrorism Declines’, p. 73. Walter Enders and Todd Sandler, ‘Transnational Terrorism, 1968–2000: Thresholds, Persistence, and Forecasts’, Southern Economic Journal 2005, Vol. 71, No. 3, pp. 467–82; Todd Sandler, Walter Enders and Harvey E. Lapan, ‘Economic Analysis Can Help Fight International Terrorism’, Challenge, January/February 1991, pp. 10–17; Walter Enders and Todd Sandler, ‘Is Transnational Terrorism Becoming More Threatening: A Time-Series Investigation’, The Journal of Conflict Resolution, Vol. 44, No. 3 (June 2000), pp. 307–32. Jonathan David Farley, ‘Breaking Al-Qaeda Cells: A Mathematical Analysis of Counterterrorism Operations (A Guide for Risk Assessment and Decision Making)’, Studies in Conflict and Terrorism, Vol. 26, No. 6 (November/December 2003), pp. 399–411. See also Bernard Harris, ‘Mathematical Methods in Combatting Terrorism’, Risk Analysis, Vol. 24, No. 4 (August 2004), pp. 985–8. For example, referring to the case study of the Weathermen, Ehud Sprinzak argued that left-wing groups evolve through three stages: crisis of confidence, conflict of legitimacy, and crisis of legitimacy. See ‘The Psychopolitical Formation of Extreme Left Terrorism in a Democracy: The Case of the Weatherman’, in Reich, Origins of Terrorism, pp. 65–85. For another argument about the psychological phases for terrorist groups see Albert Bandura, ‘Mechanisms of Moral Disengagement’, Reich, Origins of Terrorism, pp. 161–91. Leonard Weinberg and Louise Richardson, ‘Conflict Theory and the Trajectory of Terrorist Campaigns in Western Europe’, Silke, Research on Terrorism: Trends, Achievements and Failures, pp. 138–60. Ehud Sprinzak, ‘Right-Wing Terrorism in Comparative Perspective: The Case of Split Delegitimization’, in Tore Bjørgo (ed.), Terror from the Extreme Right, pp. 17–43; cited by Leonard Weinberg, ‘How Terrorist Campaigns End’, paper prepared for presentation at the ‘Counterterrorism in Democracies’ conference, sponsored by the National Security Studies Center, University of Haifa, 30 December 2002 to 2 January 2003, pp. 7–8. Ted Robert Gurr, Why Men Rebel (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1970). There is a rich literature from the 1960s and 1970s on political violence, of which terrorism is arguably a subset. Gurr defines political violence as ‘all collective attacks within a political community against the political regime, its actor – including competing political groups as well as incumbents – or its policies.’ Ibid., pp. 3–4. Crenshaw, ‘How Terrorism Declines’, p. 82. See also John O. Voll, ‘Bin Laden and the New Age of Global Terrorism’, Middle East Policy, Vol. 8, No. 4 (December 2001), pp. 1–5; and Quintan Wiktorowicz, ‘Framing Jihad: Intramovement

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Framing Contests and al-Qaeda’s Struggle for Sacred Authority’, International Review of Social History, Vol. 29 (2004), pp. 159–77. David C. Rapoport, ‘The Four Waves of Modern Terrorism’, in Cronin and Ludes, Attacking Terrorism, pp. 46–73; and David C. Rapoport, ‘The Fourth Wave: September 11 in the History of Terrorism’, Current History, December 2001, pp. 419–24. The best of these is Martha Crenshaw’s edited book, Terrorism in Context (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1995), which is unusual in that it examines both the evolution of terrorist organizations as well as the counter-terrorist techniques used against them. It explains terrorism as part of broader processes of political and social change. Reflecting its own historical context, however, there is a strong bias toward left-wing and ethnonationalist/ separatist groups. In the wake of September 11, Yonah Alexander produced an edited volume of comparative case studies, Combating Terrorism: Strategies of Ten Countries (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2002), which emphasizes counter-terrorist techniques mainly used against European groups. Another promising study is Robert Art and Louise Richardson, Democracy and Terrorism: Lessons from the Past (Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press, 2006). Crenshaw, ‘How Terrorism Declines’, p. 70. Crenshaw, ‘Thoughts on Relating Terrorism to Historical Contexts’, in Crenshaw (ed.), Terrorism in Context (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1995), pp. 3–24. One interesting comparative study of terrorist groups in two states, the United States and Canada, concluded that four factors led to terrorism’s decline: pre-emption, deterrence, burn-out and backlash. Its applicability was limited by the small number of cases, however. Jeffrey Ian Ross and Ted Robert Gurr, ‘Why Terrorism Subsides: A Comparative Study of Canada and the United States’, Comparative Politics, Vol. 21, No. 4 (July 1989), pp. 407–8. Crenshaw argues that the decline of terrorism results from the interplay of three factors: the government’s response, the choices of the terrorist group, and the organization’s resources. See Crenshaw, ‘How Terrorism Declines’, p. 80. In another article, she further explores the internal and external factors, pointing to deterrence, criminal justice, enhanced defence and negotiations as external government strategies, interacting with situations of success, preliminary success, organizational breakdown, dwindling support and new alternatives for terrorist organizations. See Crenshaw, ‘How Terrorism Ends’, pp. 2–5. Shining Path was founded in the late 1960s but did not engage in terrorist attacks until more than ten years later. Audrey Kurth Cronin, Huda Aden, Adam Frost and Benjamin Jones, Foreign Terrorist Organizations, CRS Report for Congress, 6 February 2004; order code RL 32223, pp. 103–5. His successor, Oscar Ramirez Duran, also known as Feliciano, was captured in July 1999, apparently marking the demise of the group. In subsequent years, Sendero has failed to revive itself, although a blossoming connection to cocaine trafficking has some Peruvian officials worried that it could become a resurgent threat, particularly if Guzman (now 73) is allowed to reconnect with followers from his jail cell. See for example, Monty Hayes, ‘Shining Path on the Rise Again’, Associated Press, 30 May 2008. Ibid., pp. 17–19; and Patterns of Global Terrorism 2003. According to the latter, in July 2001 a small group of Aum members was arrested in Russia, planning to set off bombs near the Imperial Palace in Tokyo, free Asahara, and smuggle him to Russia. Nonetheless, the group is much smaller and less active than it was before Asahara’s arrest. Action Directe’s four principal leaders, Nathalie Menigon, Jean-Marc Rouillan, Joelle Aubron and Georges Cipriani, were arrested in Febuary 1987, followed

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shortly thereafter by Max Frerot, effectively dismantling the leadership of the group and putting an end to its activities. The Chilean group Manuel Rodriguez Patriotic Front Dissidents essentially ceased to exist because of the arrest of its key leaders in the 1990s; after a four-day siege of their compound in April 1985, eight leaders of the domestic US group the Covenant, the Sword, and the Arm of the Lord were arrested and imprisoned, effectively putting an end to the group. Members of the El Salvadoran group Fuerzas Populares de Liberación killed their own deputy leader when she appeared to be interested in negotiating with the Salvadoran government; the leader of the group, Salvador Cayetano Carpio, committed suicide shortly thereafter, resulting in the internal disintegration of the group and essentially its absorption into a larger organization, Faradundo Marti National Liberation Front. The latter reached a peace agreement with the Salvadoran government in 1991. See the MIPT Terrorism Knowledge Base, a database of domestic and international terrorist organizations sponsored by the Markle Foundation, available at (accessed 31 July 2008). Che Guevara was captured and killed by the Bolivian army in October 1967 and subsequently became a legendary figure, inspirational to leftist and separatist groups in Latin America and throughout the world. Leila Ali Khaled of the PFLP carried the book My Friend Che with her when she hijacked TWA flight 840 in August 1969. In the United States, the Weathermen also organized massive protests on the second anniversary of Che Guevera’s death, 8–11 October 1969. Harvey Kushner, Encyclopedia of Terrorism (Thousand Oaks, Calif.: Sage, 2003) pp. 155–6, 372 and 406. I am grateful to Mia Bloom for this observation. Sheikh Omar is leader of the Egyptian al Gamaa al-Islamiya, also closely tied with Egyptian Islamic Jihad, and is also known as the blind sheikh. He is imprisoned for life in the United States but has continued to call on his followers to engage in violence, especially against Jews. He was convicted for conspiracy in the 1993 World Trade Center bombing and also plots to bomb the Holland and Lincoln Tunnels and the United Nations building, and to assassinate Senator Joseph D’Amato and UN Secretary General Boutros Boutros-Ghali. See, for example, Anonymous (2002) Through Our Enemies’ Eyes: Osama bin Laden, Radical Islam, and the Future of America. Washington DC: Brassey’s, p. 274 (the author has since gone public as Michael Scheuer, a former CIA analyst). Members of the Baader-Meinhof group engaged in violence during numerous attempts to free their imprisoned comrades, for example. The blind sheikh has also prompted violence aimed at his release. Ibid. For an explanation of the major types of terrorist organizations, see Cronin, ‘Behind the Curve’, pp. 39–42. The Red Army Faction, which was a successor of the Baader-Meinhof group, arguably continued for some years and transitioned to what it called its ‘third generation’, with claims of attacks in the name of the RAF during the 1980s and early 1990s. The degree to which it truly was the same group is debatable. In any case, its ideology was severely undermined by the dissolution of the Soviet Union. See entry in MIPT Terrorism Knowledge Base, available at . Crenshaw, ‘How Terrorism Declines’, p. 78. On right-wing groups, see Cronin, ‘Behind the Curve’, pp. 39–42. These include the Christian Patriots, the Aryan Nations, the Ku Klux Klan, and The Order (a short-lived faction of Aryan Nations) in the United States, as well as the Anti-Zionist Movement in Italy, and the National Warriors of South Africa. In the United States, the Ku Klux Klan is a notable example. Some groups, such as The Order (active between 1982 and 1984), have been idolized by their admirers and continue to exercise influence. The phrase was apparently originated by Col. Ulius Louis Amoss, who wrote an

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52 53 54

55

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essay with that title in 1962. It was later popularized by Louis R. Beam, Jr., Aryan Nations Leader and former Texas Ku Klux Klan Grand Dragon leader. See Louis R. Beam, ‘Leaderless Resistance’, The Seditionist 12 (February 1991); cited by Jeffrey Kaplan, ‘Leaderless Resistance’, in Inside Terrorist Organizations, edited by David C. Rapoport (London: Frank Cass, 2001), pp. 260–73. During much of this period, the African National Congress was labelled a terrorist organization by the US Department of Defense but not by the US State Department. The South-West African People’s Organization (SWAPO) underwent a similar transition: from orchestrating bombings in banks, stores, schools and service stations, to governing Namibia. For example, for those who had outside protectors, Laqueur includes the Palestinian Arab Groups and the Croatian Ustasha. For those facing imperial powers not able to hold onto colonies, he includes the IRA, Britain and Ireland after World War I; the Irgun, Britain and Palestine Mandate after World War II; and the EOKA, Britain and Cyprus, also after World War II. Walter Laqueur (1977). Terrorism. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, p. 118. Other splinter groups include the Continuity IRA and the Irish National Liberation Army. For a discussion of this problem, see Fred Charles Ikle ‘The Struggle Within: The Search for an Exit’, in Ikle, Every War Must End (Columbia University Press, 1971, second revised edition, 2005), pp. 84–105. Negotiations, however, complicate a terrorist organization’s efforts to perpetuate its own ‘absolutist’ perspective in justifying the use of terrorist violence. See Adrian Guelke, ‘Stopping Terrorism’, in The Age of Terrorism and the International Political System (London: I.B. Tauris, 1998), pp. 162–81. See Donatella della Porta’s chapter in this volume, and Franco Ferracuti, ‘Ideology and Repentence: Terrorism in Italy’, in Reich, Origins of Terrorism, pp. 59–64; Leonard Weinberg, ‘Italy and the Red Brigades’, in Art and Richardson, Democracy and Counterterrorism. Other examples cited by Art and Richardson include amnesties or other incentives given to members of the ETA, the Shining Path, the FALN, the IRA and the Tamil Tigers, with degrees of success related to whether members of a group perceived it as being likely to prevail. See ‘Conclusion’, in Art and Richardson, Democracy and Counterterrorism. Peter A. Lupsha’, ‘Explanation of Political Violence: Some Psychological Theories versus Indignation’, Politics and Society, Vol. 2, No. 1 (Fall 1971), pp. 89–104; and Luigi Bonanate, ‘Some Unanticipated Consequences of Terrorism’, Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 16, No. 3 (1979), pp. 197–211. Terrorist operations, albeit shocking and tragic, at least as often increase the level of public support for the cause, and indeed are designed to do so. Examples include the PLO, Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization (IMRO), the IRA and nineteenth-century Russian terrorism. See Laqueur, Terrorism. See Sean Boyne, ‘The Real IRA: After Omagh, What Now?’ Jane’s Intelligence Review, October 1998 (accessed 31 July 2008). MIPT database incident profile, accessed at on 17 June 2005. (This database is unfortunately no longer publicly available, although the START program at the University of Maryland is establishing a successor to it.) The PFLP-GC has ties with Syria and Libya and may have had a role in the bombing of Pan Am 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland. See Cronin et al., Foreign Terrorist Organizations, pp. 80–2;

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and Kenneth Katzman, The PLO and Its Factions, CRS Report for Congress No. RS21235. The state sponsorship of this group from the 1980s may have reduced its dependency on a local constituency. See, for example, Goldie Shabad and Francisco Jose Llera Ramo, ‘Political Violence in a Democratic State: Basque Terrorism in Spain’, in Crenshaw, Terrorism in Context, pp. 410–69, especially 455–62. Mark Juergensmeyer, Terror in the Mind of God: The Global Rise of Religious Violence (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000), pp. 84–101. See also C. Christine Fair, ‘Diaspora Involvement in Insurgencies: Insights from the Khalistan and Tamil Eelam Movements’, Nationalism and Ethnic Politics, Vol. 11, No. 1 (Spring 2005), pp. 125–56. Fair, ‘Diaspora Involvement.’ For more on state sponsorship, see Daniel Byman, Deadly Connections: States that Sponsor Terrorism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005). On intervention, see Adam Roberts, ‘The “War on Terror” in Historical Perspective’, Survival, Vol. 47, No. 2 (Summer 2005), pp. 115–21. For recent work on this subject, see Mark Kramer, ‘The Perils of Counterinsurgency: Russia’s War in Chechnya’, International Security, Vol. 29, No. 3 (Winter 2004/05), pp. 5–63; and Mark Kramer, ‘Guerrilla Warfare, Counterinsurgency, and Terrorism in the North Caucasus: The Military Dimension of the Russian– Chechen Conflict’, Europe–Asia Studies, Vol. 57, No. 2 (March 2005), pp. 209–90. For more on the Chechen case, see Audrey Kurth Cronin, ‘Russia and Chechnya’, in Art and Richardson, Democracy and Counterterrorism. These would include the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC), the National Liberation Army (ELN) and the United Self-Defense Forces of Colombia (AUC). See Larry Niksch, Abu Sayyaf: Target of Philippine–U.S. Antiterrorism Cooperation, CRS Report for Congress, #RL31265, updated 8 April 8 2003; and Cronin et al., Foreign Terrorist Organizations, pp. 4–7. Cronin et al., Foreign Terrorist Organizations, p. 92. As Adam Roberts points out, the outbreak of World War I is a principal example: the Bosnian-Serb student who killed Archduke Franz Ferdinand in July 1914 had no intention of setting off an international cataclysm. See Ratko Parezanin, Mlada Bosna I prvi svetski rat [Young Bosnia and the First World War] (Munich: Iskra, 1974) cited by Roberts, ‘The “War on Terror” in Historical Perspective’, p. 107, n. 15.

5 Leaving underground organizations: a sociological analysis of the Italian case 1 2 3 4 5

Data is collected from judicial proceedings in trials on terrorism. On the use of life histories, see della Porta 1992. Even in those moments when they were disgusted by the armed struggle, many ‘former activists’ confirm that collaborating ‘never entered my head’ (Catanzaro and Manconi 1995, 213). In whose kidnapping he had participated before unsuccessfully opposing his murder: ‘A prisoner couldn’t be killed. It was an abomination’ (Morucci 2004, 145). See, for example, the study by Gottraux (2005) on the French group, Socialisme ou Barbarie.

6 Leaving terrorism behind in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country 1 ETA is an acronym for Euskadi ta Askatasuna, meaning Basque Homeland and Freedom. IRA is an acronym for Irish Republican Army.

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2 David Rapoport, ‘The Four Waves of Modern Terrorism’, in A.K. Cronin and J.M. Ludes (eds) (2004) Attacking Terrorism: Elements of a Grand Strategy. Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, pp. 46–73. 3 ETA has been responsible for the killing of 856 people since the beginning of its campaign. At the same time, more than 3,600 people have died since the outbreak of violence in Northern Ireland, the IRA being responsible for most of these killings, including a considerable number of Catholic civilians. Statistics attribute the IRA responsibility for almost 60 per cent of all the killings caused during the conflict, Loyalist terrorists being responsible for around 28 per cent of all deaths, and security forces, including the Army and the police, for approximately 10 per cent. See David McKittrick, Seamus Kelters, Brian Feeney and Chris Thornton (1999) Lost Lives. Edinburgh: Mainstream Publishing Company, pp. 1473–93 and Marie-Therese Fay, Mike Morrisey and Marie Smyth (1999) Northern Ireland’s Troubles: The Human Costs. London: Pluto Press, pp. 168–71. 4 For an analysis of the motivations of activists of both terrorist groups see R. Alonso, ‘Individual motivations for joining terrorist organizations: a comparative qualitative study on members of ETA and the IRA’, in J. Victoroff (ed.) (2006) Social and Psychological Factors in the Genesis of Terrorism. Amsterdam: IOS Press, pp. 187–202. 5 ‘Sin la voz de las víctimas la paz no será duradera’, El Diario Vasco, 18 November 18, 2005. 6 ‘NI victims’ rights given “too little attention”, Ulster Television News, 2 July 2003, (accessed 1 August 2008). 7 ‘Unless we address victims’ needs we cannot move on’, Irish News, 27 January 2006. 8 We will remember them, Report of the Northern Ireland Victims’ Commissioner, Sir Kenneth Bloomfield, KCB, April 1998, p. 23. 9 ‘Dealing with troubled past is difficult issue for society’, Lord Eames and Denis Bradley, Irish News, 2 January 2008. 10 Who are the victims? Self-assessed victimhood and the Northern Irish conflict, Ed Carins and John Mallett, with Christopher Lewis and Ronnie Wilson, NIO Research & Statistical Series, Report No. 7, Northern Ireland Statistics & Research Agency, June 2003, p. 30. 11 ‘Victims have “right to truth” ’, Irish News, 20 April 2005. 12 ‘Legacy of the Troubles’ theme for O’Loan lecture’, Irish News, 2 February 2008. 13 ‘Police chief calls for truth and reconciliation for Ulster’, The Guardian, 23 February 2004. 14 ‘262 cases reviewed, a bill of £8m, and not a single charge’, Belfast Telegraph, Chris Thornton, 17 August 2007. 15 See for example ‘Lessons of the North have export value’, Liam Clarke, The Sunday Times, 6 April 2003; ‘Clinton tells Ulster “don’t turn back” ’, Nicholas Watt, The Guardian, 3 October 2002; ‘Peacemaking in Northern Ireland: A model for conflict resolution?’ Speech by Peter Hain MP, Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, Chatham House, 12 June 2007. 16 Interview with José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero published in El País, 26 March 2006. 17 These were the words constantly used by Spanish Prime Minister, José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero, throughout 2006 after ETA declared a ceasefire in March of that year, opening up, as he put it himself, a ‘peace process’ that was supposed to end decades of terrorism. 18 Agreement for Freedom and against Terrorism, signed in Madrid on 12 December 2000 by the Popular Party and the Spanish Socialist Workers Party. 19 A detailed account of ETA’s numerous failed attempts to kill since May 2003

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23

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can be found in ‘Falseando la voluntad asesina de ETA’, Rogelio Alonso, ABC, 31 March 2007. For a thorough analysis of ETA’s terrorist activities throughout the period of the truce, see ETA en ‘alto el fuego’: nueve meses de actividad terrorista. Quinto informe de verificación de la violencia terrorista, Mikel Buesa, 31 December 2006, Documentos Foro de Ermua, (accessed 1 August 2008). On the background that preceded and motivated this agreement after the breaking in 2000 of the truce decreed by ETA in September 1998, see Antonio Elorza (2003), La hora de Euzkadi. Disidencias I. Artículos y Ensayos. Barcelona: Galaxia Gutenberg, pp. 149–284. See, for example, the temporary series in the survey Euskobarómetro, produced by the Political Science Department of the University of the Basque Country. On the social response to terrorism, see also Edurne Uriarte (2003), Cobardes y Rebeldes. Por Qué Pervive el Terrorismo. Madrid. Temas de Hoy, pp. 227–250; and ¡Basta ya! Iniciativa Cívica (2004), Euskadi, del sueño a la vergüenza. Guía útil del drama vasco. Madrid: Ediciones B, pp. 211–290. The Act in Solidarity with the Victims of Terrorism can be interpreted in this way, along with the introduction of a new criminal offence of ‘exaltation of terrorism’ aimed at sanctioning those who praise or justify by any means of public expression or dissemination the crimes of terrorism or those who participate in their perpetration, or the carrying out of acts involving the discrediting, contempt or humiliation of the victims of terrorist crimes or their families. Zutabe 106, November 2004. This was the bleak view expressed by the terrorist group in its own internal documents, as can be seen in Zutabe 91, June 2001; Zutabe 105, June 2004; Zutabe 104, April 2004. El Correo, 3 November 2004. Ibid. ‘Los notables de ETA expulsan a Pakito’, Florencio Domínguez, La Vanguardia, 6 December 2005. On this issue, see Lucha contra el Terrorismo, Resolución número 32 aprobada por el Pleno de la Cámara, Boletín Oficial de las Cortes Generales, no. 206, Congreso de los Diputados, VIII Legislatura, 20 May 2005, pp. 28–9. The political content negotiated can be read in Gara, ‘2005–2007. Proceso de negociación. En busca de un acuerdo político resolutivo’, Suplemento Documentos, 23 September 2007; Deia, 29 July 2007; and Tiempo, no. 1352, 19–27 March 2008. For a detailed analysis of the political costs for the Spanish government that were derived from the negotiations with ETA, see Rogelio Alonso ‘¿Qué política antiterrorista frente a ETA? Lecciones desde la perspectiva comparada’, Cuadernos de Pensamiento Político, No. 16, 2007, pp. 95–120. ETA’s internal documentation would later claim that the Spanish government had in fact suggested to the terrorist group that they use that political party in order to be able to circumvent the banning of Batasuna, the movement’s political wing outlawed in 2002. ‘ETA dice que el Gobierno le sugirió utilizar la marca ANV en las municipales’, Ángeles Escrivá, El Mundo, 23 October 2007. ‘Peacemaking in Northern Ireland: A model for conflict resolution?’ Speech by Peter Hain MP, Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, Chatham House, 12 June 2007. ‘Ulster’s lesson for the Middle East: don’t indulge extremists’, David Trimble, The Guardian, 25 October 2007. For a more detailed analysis of this period, see Rogelio Alonso (2004), ‘Pathways out of terrorism in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country: the misrepresentation of the Irish model’, Terrorism and Political Violence, vol. 16, no. 4, pp. 695–713.

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36 Reconocer el ser para decidir, Annex approved in the III PNV’s National Assembly, El País, 14 January 2000. 37 The document is reproduced in Eamonn Mallie and David McKittrick (1996), The Fight for Peace. London: Heinemann, pp. 381–4. 38 Liam Clarke, ‘Republicans will never grow up if we excuse bad behaviour’, The Sunday Times, 13 October 2002. 39 The importance and effectiveness of these measures can be appreciated in Rogelio Alonso (2007) The IRA and armed struggle, London: Routledge; Richard English (2003) Armed Struggle. A History of the IRA. London: Macmillan; Ed Moloney (2002) A Secret History of the IRA. London: Penguin. 40 Quoted in ‘Republicans woo young voters with softer image’, by Mark Hennessy, The Irish Times, 31 July 2001. 41 ‘Adams – from IRA pariah to A-list celebrity’, Fintan O’Toole, The Sunday Times, 23 February 2003. 42 ‘La ambiciosa estrategia del Sinn Féin’, Fred Halliday, El País, El País Domingo, 17 July 2005. 43 From 1983 to 1987 a terrorist campaign was carried out against suspected members and supporters of ETA by a shadowy organization known as GAL (Grupo Antiterrorista de Liberación), resulting in the killing of 27 individuals. This illegal group was secretly formed by police officials who recruited mercenary assassins from among organized criminals in France and Portugal. Spain proved to be a functioning democratic regime and the rule of law was finally applied to the policemen, gangsters and some politicians belonging to the Socialist Party who were involved. They received severe court sentences for their illegal activities as part of GAL. Families of their victims received monetary compensation through funds from the State budget, the same procedure as in the case of relatives whose loved ones were killed by other terrorist organizations, including ETA. For an analysis of GAL, see Paddy Woodworth (2001) Dirty Wars, Clean Hands: ETA, the GAL and Spanish Democracy. Cork: University Press. 44 See for example how in January 2007 a report by the Northern Ireland Police Ombudsman found that officers from the Royal Ulster Constabulary’s (RUC) Special Branch protected informants inside Loyalist terrorist groups and failed to stop them committing up to 15 murders. In March 2008 an independent police team investigating this web of collusion between Loyalist terrorists and Special Branch discovered that the number of murders could be higher. In 2001 Canadian judge Peter Cory was commissioned to investigate controversial killings in which the collusion of security forces in Northern Ireland was suspected. The murder of Pat Finucane in February 1989 was one of the cases. In 2003 the Stevens Inquiry, headed by Sir John Stevens, the Metropolitan Police Commissioner, had already declared that there had been collusion, and that the death could have been prevented. Judge Cory also looked into killings committed by the IRA that gave rise to allegations that republicans had been assisted by security leaks from the Republic of Ireland. 45 Danielle Conversi, ‘Domino Effect or Internal Developments? The Influences of International Events and Political Ideologies on Catalan and Basque Nationalism’, West European Politics, Vol. 16, No. 3 (July 1993), p. 264. 46 The Northern Ireland experience also shows how journalists and politicians who dared to question the interpretation of various events put forward by Sinn Fein representatives were depicted as ‘opposed to the peace process’ and interested in ‘damaging the peace process’. Rogelio Alonso (2004) ‘Paz y diálogo en Irlanda y Euskadi’, Claves de Razón Práctica, No. XX, pp. 20–7. 47 ‘Iniciativa ciudadana ¡Basta Ya! pide al PSE que no se reúna con Batasuna’, at (accessed 1 August 2008).

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48 ‘ETA, fuera de las instituciones’, 23 March 2007, published at . The document is very explicit on governmental concessions. Also revealing on this issue is one of the editorials in El País, one of the most influential newspapers in the country, which supported the government’s negotiations with ETA. The paper recognized that in relation to the ‘shelving of the court cases underway and the de facto legalization of Batasuna’ there has been ‘for a number of months’ some ‘tolerance’ that ‘would not have been difficult to prolong if ETA had given any kind of indication that it was ready to disappear definitively’ (‘Las consecuencias’, El País, 22 November 2006). These words confirmed that there was considerable ‘tolerance’ towards ETA that was, however, denied in public. This double discourse lends meaning to surprising statements such as the one by the prime minister when he stated that certain judicial decisions against Batasuna could hamper the ‘peace process’ (‘La sucesión de actos judiciales en pleno proceso de paz alarma al gobierno e irrita a los partidos vascos’, El País, 8 November 2006). 49 Euskal Herria, the ethnolinguistic unit claimed by Basque separatists as their homeland, is made up of the three Spanish provinces that form the Basque Country (Guipúzcoa, Álava and Vizcaya), as well as another Spanish province outside the Basque Autonomous Community, Navarra, and the French Departments of Labourd, Soul and the Lower Navarra portions of Pyrénées. 50 For a more detailed analysis of this matter, see Rogelio Alonso and Fernando Reinares (2005), ‘Terrorism, Human Rights and Law Enforcement in Spain’, Terrorism and Political Violence, vol. 17, nos. 1–2, pp. 265–78. 51 Michael Ignatieff (1999), The Warrior’s Honour: Ethnic war and the modern conscience. London: Vintage, p. 104. 52 An example of these erroneous generalizations can be found in ‘El precio de la paz’, Vicenç Fisas, El País, 14 May 2005, and ‘¿Una salida para el conflicto vasco?, Vicenç Fisas, El País, 20 January 2007. The author of both articles reveals the deficiencies of this type of analysis, boasting, no less, that he has analysed ‘all the negotiating processes that exist in the world’. 53 This is the unambiguous verdict reached by regular surveys and studies of Basque public opinion. See Euskobarómetro. Estudio periódico de la opinión pública vasca, Political Science and Public Administration Department, University of the Basque Country, Bilbao. 54 See for example José Zalaquett, ‘Truth, Justice, and Reconciliation: Lessons for the International Community’, in Cynthia J. Arnson (ed.) (1999) Comparative Peace Processes in Latin America. Washington: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, pp. 341–61. 55 ‘Cebrián afirma que el acuerdo con ETA se ceñirá a los presos’, El País, 21 July 2005. 56 ‘Amnistías’, Mikel Buesa, Abc, 14 December 2005. 57 Kenneth Bloomfield (2007) A Tragedy of Errors: The Government and Misgovernment of Northern Ireland. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, p. 105. 58 ‘Justicia de las víctimas y reconciliación en el País Vasco’, Reyes Mate, Documento de Trabajo 96/2006 (Working Document 96/2006), Fundación Alternativas, p. 24. 59 Interview with Seamus Mallon in The Guardian, 14 March 2007. 60 Bloomfield (2007), pp. 105, 243–6. 61 The Guardian, 13 March 2007; and Belfast Telegraph, 14 March 2007. 62 ‘The price of peace’, John Ware, BBC News, Radio 4, March 2008 (accessed 1 August 2008). 63 The Guardian, 14 March 2007. 64 See ‘Los consejos de expertos que Zapatero no quiso oír’, Ramón Sola, Gara, 6 June 2007. 65 Gara, 31 October 2004.

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66 In this regard see the response by Fernando Ruiz Piñero, president of the High Court of Justice of the Basque Country, stating that ‘demanding that judges become involved in the peace process breaks the rules of democracy’. Interview published in El Correo, 12 February 2006. 67 ‘Truth and tribalism’, Fintan O’Toole, The Guardian, 21 July 2007. 68 ‘Carlos Alonso Palacio. Diego Armando Estacio’, Maite Pagazaurtundua, at , 4 January 2007. 69 ‘Pumpido critica la marcha por “no haber ya casi víctimas”, Abc, 10 March 2007. 70 ‘ETA envía cartas amenazantes a empresarios con fotografías y seguimientos de familiares’, El Diario Vasco, 8 March 2006. 71 See for example the withdrawal by the Public Prosecutor, in March 2007, of the indictment against Batasuna’s leader Arnaldo Otegi for exalting terrorism. 7 The renunciation of violence by Egyptian jihadi organizations 1 For information on the violence and terrorism perpetrated by the two organizations in Egypt in this period, see Hassan Bakr (1996), al- Unf al-siyasi fi Misr: Asyut bu
rat al-tawattur, al-asbab wa-l-dawafi , Cairo: the Mahrusa Center for Research and Publication, 1996;  Umar Ahmad  Umar, Asyut madinat al-nar: asrar wa waqa
i  al- unf, Cairo: Dar Sphinx, 1994; Diaa Rashwan,  Ab  ad zahirat al-  unf al-Islami fi Misr
, in  Isam  Amir, ed., al-Islam al-siyasi wa-l-irhab wa-l- unf, Cairo: Dar al-Khulud, 1995; and David Fielding and Anja Shortland, ‘An Eye for an Eye, a Tooth for a Tooth: a Study of Political Violence and Counter-Insurgency in Egypt’, University of Otago, Economics Discussion Papers, no. 0507, May 2005. 2 See Ayman al-Zawahiri’s story of the emergence and evolution of jihadi groups in two interviews published on the Manbar al-Tawhid wa-l-Jihad website, . The London-based al-Hayah also did an interview with al-Zawahiri that was ultimately not published, although parts were published by the Egyptian al- Arabi al-usbu iya, 22 November 1994. Former al-Jazeera correspondent Jamal Isma  il interviewed al-Zawahiri in Afghanistan in December 1998; the network did not published the interview, but Isma  il reproduced it in his book, Ibn Ladin wa-l-Jazeera wa ana, found on several websites. See pp. 168–94 of the electronic copy and . 3 For details on the coup attempt and the ensuing investigation, see Mukhtar Nuh, Qadiyat al-fanniya al- askariya 1974: awwal muhawalat inqilab askari Islami fi-l-qarn al- ishrin, Cairo: al-Mahrusa Research and Publication, n.d. 4 For the formation and development of jihadi groups and the united Jihad, see Kamal al-Sa  id Habib, al-Haraka al-Islamiya min al-muwajaha ila-l-muraja a, Cairo: Madbuli Library, 2002; one of the most important documents on the history of the Jihad is the testimony of Hani al-Siba  i, a former leader of the group, regardless of the truth of the incidents related therein and the sometimes conflicting stories of other eyewitnesses and participants. See ‘Hani al-Siba  i wa qissat jama  at al-jihad’, al-Hayah, nos. 14409–12, 1–4 September 2002; Muhammad Muru, Tanzim al-jihad: judhuruhu wa asraruh, Cairo: al-Sharika al-  Arabiya al-Dawliya li-l-Nashr wa-l-I  lam, 1990; the James Martin Center for Nonproliferation Studies, Special Section: Terrorist Attacks on America, al-Jihad al-Islami, updated February 2008, . 5 For the emergence and development of the Gama  a al-Islamiya, see: Salwa Muhammad al-  Awa, al-Jama a al-Islamiya al-musallaha fi Misr, Cairo: al-Shuruq International, 2006; Wa
il  Uthman, Asrar al-haraka al-tulabiya 1968–75, Cairo: Madkur Presses, 1976; Abu-l-  Ila Madi, ‘Jama  at al-  unf al-Misriya wa ta
wilatuha li-l-Islam: al-judhur al-tarikhiya wa-l-usus al-fikriya wa-l-muraja  at’, in Ahmad

Notes

6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

14

15

16

17 18

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Zaki Yamani, ed., al-Irhab: judhuruhu anwa uhu wa subul ilajihi, proceedings of a counterterrorism seminar held in London, 11–13 March 2004, London: al-Furqan Institution for Islamic Heritage, 2005; Muntasir al-Zayyat, al-Jama at al-Islamiya: ru
ya min al-dakhil, Cairo: Dar Misr al-Mahrusa, 2005; Nabil  Abd al-Fattah and Diaa Rashwan, eds., Taqrir al-hala al-diniya fi Misr 1995, Cairo: Ahram Center for Political and Strategic Studies, 1996;  al-Jama  a al-Islamiya fi Misr
, see ; Badr Muhammad Badr, al-Jama a al-Islamiya fi jami at al-Misriya: haqa
iq wa watha
iq, Cairo: no publisher, 1989; and Salih al-Wardani, al-Haraka al-Islamiya fi Misr: ru
ya waqi iya li-marhalat al-sab iniyat, Cairo: Dar al-Bidaya, 1986. For details on the assassination of al-Sadat and events in Asyut, see  Abd al-  Aziz al-Sharqawi, Qadiyat tanzim al-jihad: asbab al-hukm fi qadiyat al-jinaya raqam 48 li-sanat 1982 amn dawla ulya, Cairo: Madbuli Library, 1985. Diaa Rashwan,  Ma  alim fi tariq al-  unf wa-l-muraja  a: al-jama  a al-Islamiya, tanzim al-jihad, al-qa  ida
, al-Qabas, 20 January 2005. Ibid. The definition of Islamist movements here relies on the analytical introduction to Diaa Rashwan (ed.) The Spectrum of Islamist Movements, Berlin: Verlag Hans Schiler, 2007, pp. 13–22. Ibid. Sayyid Qutb, Ma alim fi-l-tariq, Cairo: Dar al-Shuruq, 1984. See particularly the introduction and the section titled ‘Naqla jadida’. Diaa Rashwan, The Spectrum of Islamist Movements. For theories and classification of violence, see: K. Feierabend et al. (eds) Anger, Violence, and Politics: Theories and Research, Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, 1972; Kenneth W. Grundy and Michael A. Weinstein, The Ideologies of Violence, Columbus, Ohio: Merrill, 1974; and René Girard, La Violence et le Sacré, Paris: Grasset, 1972. For the definition of religious and Islamic violence, see: Diaa Rashwan,  Nahw tasnif adaqq li-l-harakat al-Islamiya wa  alaqatuha bi-l-  unf
, in Ahmad Zaki Yamani, ed., al-Irhab; Diaa Rachwan, ‘The Future of Political and Religious Violence in the Arab World’, in Sadashi Fukuda, Diaa Rachwan, and Magdy Sobhi Youssef, Economic Development and Changes in the Society and Politics of Arab Countries, M.E.S. Series no. 44, Institute of Developing Economies, Tokyo, 1998. For the meaning and concepts associated with jihad, see al-Sayyid  Abd al-Hafiz  Abd Rabbih, Falsafat al-jihad fi-l-Islam, Cairo: Dar al-Kitab al-Misri al-Lubnani, n.d., and Mahmud Shakir, al-Jihad fi sabil Allah, Cairo-Jeddah: al-  Abikan Library, 1999. See Muhammad  Abd al-Salam Farag, al-Farida al-gha
iba, on the website of Minbar al-Tawhid wa-l-Jihad, , and Johannes Jansen, The Neglected Duty: The Creed of Sadat’s Assassins and Islamic Resurgence in the Middle East, New York: Macmillan, 1986. See Najih Ibrahim,  Isam  Abd al-Majid, and  Isam al-Din Dirbala,  Mithaq al-  amal al-Islami
. The most important texts and documents produced by the Gama  a al-Islamiya at that time (between 1984 and 1987) include: Dr  Umar  Abd al-Rahman, Kalimat haqq; Dr  Umar  Abd al-Rahman, Asnaf al-hukkam wa ahkamuhum; Najih Ibrahim,  Isam  Abd al-Majid, and  Isam al-Din Dirbala, ‘Mithaq al-  amal al-Islami’;  Isam al-Din Dirbala, Hukm qital al-ta
ifa al-mumtani a an shari a min shara
i  alIslam; Research committee of the Gama  a al-Islamiya, Hatmiyat al-muwajaha; Research committee of the Gama  a al-Islamiya, al- Udhr bi-l-jahl; Research committee of the Gama  a al-Islamiya, al-Haraka al-Islamiya wa-l- amal al-hizbi; Rifa  i Taha, Shahdh al-himma fi jam  shaml al-umma;  Abd al-Akhar Hamad, al-Radd ala

276

19

20 21 22 23

24 25

26 27

28 29 30

31 32

33 34

Notes

shubhat al-amr bi-l-ma ruf wa-l-nahy an al-munkar; and  Abd al-Akhar Hamad, al-Adilla al-shar iya ala jawaz taghyir al-munkar bi-l-yad li-ahad al-ra iya. The most important texts and documents produced by the Jihad in this period (between 1984 and 1993) include:  Abbud al-Zumur, Falsafat al-muwajaha;  Abbud al-Zumur, Manhaj jama at al-jihad al-Islami; Jihad legal committee, Wathiqat al-jihad wa ma alim al- amal al-thawri; and  Abbud al-Zumur, al-Manhaj al-fikri li-jama at al-jihad al-Islami. In the 1990s, other important texts were issued including: Jihad legal committee, Wujub al-jihad wa fadl al-shahada; Jihad legal committee, Jihad al-tawaghit sunna rabbaniya la tatabaddil; Jihad legal committee, al-Da wa al-sirriya;  Abd al-Qadir Ibn  Abd al-  Aziz, al- Umda fi i dad al- idda; and  Abd al-Qadir Ibn  Abd al-  Aziz, al-Jami  fi talab al- ilm al-sharif. These quotes were found on the Jihad’s website, Ma  alim al-Jihad, which was shut down several years ago. They were cited in Diaa Rashwan (ed.) The Spectrum of Islamist Movements, pp. 133–5. Diaa Rashwan, ‘Mukhalafat ba  d al-jama  at al-Islamiya li-l-qanun al-dawli al-insani: hajm al-zahira wa tafsir laha’, al-Insani, December 2005. See the short statement published in al-Hayah, 6 July 1997. For more on the Gama  a al-Islamiya’s initiative and revisionism, see Diaa Rashwan,  Tahawwulat al-jama  at al-Islamiya fi Misr
, Kurasat istratijiya, no. 92, 2000. Cairo: Ahram Center for Political and Strategic Studies; Makram Muhammad Ahmad, Mu
amara am muraja a: hiwar ma  qadat al-tatarruf fi sijn al- aqrab, Cairo: Dar al-Shuruq, 2003; and  Abd al-Latif al-Minawi, Shahid ala waqf al- unf: tahawwulat al-jama a al-Islamiya fi Misr, Cairo: Atlas Publishers, 2005. See the definition of Islamist sociopolitical movements in the analytical introduction to Diaa Rashwan (ed.) The Spectrum of Islamist Movements. For more on Sayyid Imam and his role in the jihadi movement, see Muhammad Salah, ‘Hiwar ma  Sayyid Imam al-Sharif’, al-Hayah, 8–13 December 2007; and Diaa Rashwan,  Sayyid Imam: ma  alim fi-l-tariq ila-l-jihad
, al-Misri al-yawm, 18 November 2007. Muhammad Salah, ‘Hiwar’. The most prominent of these movements is the Kharijites. See Elie Adib Salem, Political Theory and Institutions of the Khawarij, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1956; Nayif Mahmud Ma  ruf, al-Khawarij fi-l- asr al-umawi: nash
atuhum, tarikhuhum, aqa
iduhum, adabuhum, Beirut: Dar al-Tali  a Publishers, 1977; and Mahmud Isma  il, al-Khawarij fi bilad al-maghrib al-Islami, Beirut: Dar al-  Awda, 1976. See Diaa Rachwan, ‘Un deuxième profond changement’, al-Ahram Hebdo, 30 July 2003. For a brief review of the texts produced by the Gama  a al-Islamiya, see ‘25 kitaban hasilat al-muraja  at’, al-Hayah, 16 November 2007. For all 15 instalments of the document, see al-Misri al-Yawm, 18 November– 4 December 2007, and al-Jarida, 18 November–4 December 2007, as well as the al-Jarida website, . For a review of the document, see Diaa Rashwan, ‘Egypt’s Contrite Commander’, Foreign Policy, March/April 2008. See . For the details of these difficult dialogues, see Karam Zuhdi et al., Nahr aldhikrayat: al-muraja at al-fiqhiya li-l-jama a al-Islamiya, Cairo-Riyadh: al-  Abikan Library, 2005; Makram Muhammad Akram, Mu
amara am muraja a; and  Abd al-Latif al-Minawi, Shahid ala waqf al- unf. Diaa Rashwan, ‘Limadha samadat tajribat muraja  at al-jama  a al-Islamiya al-Misriya?’ Jaridat al-iqtisadiya, 20 October 2006. Diaa Rashwan, ‘al-Zawahiri yu
akkid khuturat al-muraja  at’, al-Misri al-Yawm, 17 December 2007.

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8 Exit from right-wing extremist groups: lessons from disengagement programmes in Norway, Sweden and Germany 1 T. Bjørgo and R. Witte (1993) Racist Violence in Europe, Basingstoke: Macmillan; T. Bjørgo (1997) Racist and Right-Wing Violence in Scandinavia: Patterns, Perpetrators and Responses. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget.; C. Butterwegge and S. Jäger (1993) Rassismus in Europa. Kölln: Bund-Verlag.; J. Kaplan and T. Bjørgo (eds, 1998) Nation and Race: The Developing Euro-American Racist Subculture. Boston: Northeastern University Press. 2 K. Fangen (1995) Skinheads i rødt, hvitt og blått: En sosiologisk rapport fra ‘innsiden’, Oslo: UNGforsk Rapport No. 4, 1995; T. Bjørgo (1997; 1998, op.cit.); T. Bjørgo (2002) ‘Rassistische Gruppen: Die Anwerbung reduzieren und den Aussteig fördern’, Journal für Konflikt- und Gewaltforschung / Journal for Conflict and Violence Research, Vol. 4, 1/2002 (pp. 5–31). 3 Reported by several former members of racist and neo-Nazi groups in interviews by Tore Bjørgo (1997). 4 One of the authors’ (Tore Bjørgo) interest and engagement in the field of disengagement came as a direct result of having been contacted in 1995 by several young participants in the right-wing extremist youth scene in Oslo. They were rather desperate due to their experiences of being been caught up in a movement they found it very difficult to leave, mainly due to fear of reprisals. In the same period, several parents made contact, asking for help to get their children out of these destructive neo-Nazi groups. This lead to the initiation of the Exit project. 5 There has also been a minor Exit project in Finland around 2000. In 2007, two Exit-inspired pilot projects were also established in the Netherlands. 6 Prosjekt Exit: Sluttrapport (Project Exit: Final Report). Oslo: Organisasjonen Voksne for Barn, 2000. 7 One of the outcomes of the three-year development project was the Exit Handbook, describing the main methods and strategies (in Norwegian only). T. Bjørgo, O.A.Halhjem and T. Knudstad (2001). EXIT – Ut av voldelige ungdomsgrupper: Kunnskap, erfaringer og metoder i lokalt tverrfaglig og tverretatlig arbeid. Oslo: Voksne for Barn (accessed 1 August 2008). 8 The final report of the Exit project described the origin of the Exit project, the process of implementing it, and the outcomes by the end of its three-year period (in Norwegian only). (accessed 1 August 2008). 9 (accessed 1 August 2008). 10 The local results of parental network groups and other Exit-related interventions in the city of Kristiansand were described in Carlsson, Y. and Haaland, T. (2004). Voldelige ungdomsgrupper – intervensjon på kommunenivå. Erfaringsrapport fra Kristiansand 2001–2004. Oslo: NIBR-rapport 2004:20. The relevant part on Exit and parental network groups is at (accessed 1 August 2008). 11 This is confirmed by an interview study of 11 parents whose children had been involved in the neo-Nazi scene. The children of ten of these informants had left the group at the time of the interview. Eight of the informants claimed that the main cause for this was their own persistent efforts to get their children out – which were made possible by their participation in parental network groups. The study concludes that such parental network groups are highly useful. H. Olsen (2001). Å være foreldre til en nynazist (To be parents of a neo-Nazi), Oslo: Department of Criminology. 12 (accessed 1 August 2008).

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13 Based on Winsnes (2005), which had more detailed figures than the Police Security Service published in its press release 16 January 2004, (accessed 1 August 2008). 14 The Exit Sweden homepage is at (accessed 1 August 2008). There has also been a minor Exit programme in Finland, inspired by the Norwegian and Swedish models. 15 BRÅ (2001a). Exit för avhoppare: En uppföljning och utvärdering av verksamheten åren 1998–2001. Stockholm: BRÅ-rapport 2001:8 (accessed 1 August 2008). For an English summary of an evaluation of Exit Sweden by the Swedish Council of Crime Prevention (BRÅ), see (accessed 1 August 2008). However, the evaluation has been heavily criticized for weak methodology and lack of independent data. 16 For an English (but not updated) description of Fryshuset: (accessed 1 August 2008). 17 For a description in English of the breakaway group and the process leading to the split, see Cecilia Englund (2002) Exit Motala – Case Study: An example of how to use integration into society as a process of healing for different groups of people living in the margin. Stockholm: The Swedish National Focal Point of the European Monotoring Centre on Racism and Xenophobia (EUMC), Expo Foundation, December 2002 (accessed 1 August 2008). 18 BRÅ (2001a). Exit för avhoppare: En uppföljning och utvärdering av verksamheten åren 1998–2001. Stockholm: BRÅ-rapport 2001:8, pp. 20–3. 19 Based on information from Robert Örell, assistant director of Exit Sweden (personal communication), and annual statistics from Exit Sweden on their activities (2005–7). Unfortunately, statistics for the years between 2001 and 2004 is incomplete. The reliability of the figures for the years until 2001 has been questioned. 20 The following description of the five-stage programme is based on the evaluation report on Exit in Sweden by the Swedish Council for Crime Prevention, BRÅ (ibid.), pp. 20–3. 21 The section on Germany in this chapter was written by Jaap van Donselaar and Sara Grunenberg. The text is a revised version of a part of their article ‘Deradicalisation: lessons from Germany, options for the Netherlands?’, published in J. van Donselaar and P. R. Rodrigues (eds) Racism & extremism monitor: seventh report. Amsterdam: Anne Frank Stichting; Leiden: Department of Public Administration, Leiden University, December 2006. 22 In Germany a distinction is made between four different forms of extreme rightwing extremism: political parties, neo-Nazi groups, violent, extreme right-wing skinheads and political commentators (source: [accessed 1 August 2008]). The Kameradschaften mentioned here are among the neo-Nazi groups. Differences may arise between the Kameradschaften and the skinhead groups, such as their degree of ideological, national-socialist orientation, but in recent years the border between the two categories seems to have become blurred. Source: Hessisches Ministerium des Inneren und für Sport (2005); Verfassungsschutz in Hessen Bericht (2004). 23 Bundesministerium des Inneren (2006). Vorabfassung Verfassungsschutzbericht (2005). Bundesminister des Inneren (1990). Verfassungsschutzbericht 1990. 24 Mut gegen rechte Gewalt (2006). Mindestens 28 rechtsextreme Straftaten am Tag. Bron (accessed 23 August 2006, no longer available).

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25 This includes, among others, Eltern Gegen Rechts (‘Parents Against Right’, , accessed 1 August 2008), Exit-Familienhilfe (Exit Family Help, (accessed 8 August 2008) and Elternberatungsnetzwerk Ost (‘Parental Advisory Network in Eastern Germany’, , accessed 1 August 2008). 26 In the original study by Grunenberg and van Donselaar (2006), the perspective was to assess to what extent these methods could be implemented in the Netherlands. 27 The German word Aussteiger literally means ‘someone who is walking out’. The English word ‘dropout’ may have slightly different connotations. 28 The home page of Exit-Deutchland is (accessed 8 August 2008). 29 ‘Das Project “Exit”, Stern no. 36, 31 August 2000. By presenting the Swedish Exit project in as its top story, the leading German news magazine Stern launched Exit in Germany, and even sponsored the project economically. 30 For the sake of readability we are using the male pronoun, although female dropouts also exist. 31 is the the programme’s home page (accessed 1 August 2008). 32 IKARus home page: (accessed 1 August 2008). 9 Disengagement and beyond: a case study of demobilization in Colombia 1 See Human Rights Watch Report ‘Smoke and Mirrors: Colombia’s demobilization of paramilitary groups’ (August 2005) (accessed 4 August 2008). 2 Scholars generally agree on the formal beginning of the Colombian Civil War on 9 April 1948, the day on which Liberal party leader Jorge Eliecer Gaitán was assassinated in Bogotá. Due to his popular appeal Gaitán had the support of the rural and urban poor – a significant potential advantage at the polls for the Liberal party. 3 Interview, undisclosable source. 4 For a detailed account of United States influence and intervention in Colombia during this period see Rempe, Dennis, ‘Guerrillas, Bandits and Independent Republics: US Counter-Insurgency efforts in Colombia 1959–1965’ in Small Wars and Insurgencies, Vol. 6 No.3, London: Frank Cass, 1995. 5 Differently from the FARC, the ELN was founded and directed by the intelligentsia of urban Colombia against the lack of channels of communication between the government and the people – not by the peasants like the FARC – and the goal of the ELN was their fight against the foreign business that had become established in Colombia. 6 The idea of forming a self-defence group developed at a meeting of 250 large business and landowners in 1982. Despite the rural origin of those involved, the meeting took place in the large city of Medellín because 70 per cent of them could not live or operate on their land because the threat of guerrilla extortion and kidnapping was too high. See: Aranguren Molina, Mauricio, Mi confesión:Carlos Castaño revela sus secretos, Bogotá: Oveja Negra, 2001. 7 According to Carlos Castaño they wanted to purchase lands in the profitable banana plantation areas of Urabá, but because that was a guerrilla stronghold, they decided to establish their stronghold in the ‘Alto Sinu’, near Monteria, quickly expanding to Antioquia in the following years. See: Mauricio Aranguren Molina, Mi confesión:Carlos Castaño revela sus secretos, Bogotá: Oveja Negra.

280

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8 The formation of the ‘paramilitary’ occurred differently in different regions of Colombia. Regional differences eventually determined the different character of the groups. For a thorough history of the paramilitary forces in Colombia, see Gustavo Duncan Los Senores de la Guerra: de paramilitares, mafiosos y autodefensas, Bogota: Planeta, 2006. 9 The paramilitary identified who the guerrilla supporters were by working through collaborators, and created ‘lists’. Then they would go into towns with these lists, gather the people in the square in the middle of the night and call out names. All those who were called out were taken, disappeared and killed. The imprecision of the system, which, according to some, was propelled more by personal vendettas than by actual counterinsurgency motives, led the local population to fear the paramilitaries rather than seeing them as liberators, at least initially. Support for the AUC remained localized and limited to certain sectors of the population. In an interview with Germán Castro Caycedo, Castaño said: ‘If we could not fight them where they were, then we could surely neutralize those who provided them with food, drugs, messages, alcohol, prostitutes, etc. And we realized that we could indeed isolate them and we saw that it was a strategy that gave very good results.’ Castro Caycedo, Germán, En Secreto, Santafé de Bogotá: Planeta, 1996, pp. 153–4. 10 See (accessed 4 August 2008). 11 The fact that the AUC was involved in narcotraffic is widely known. Carlos Castaño admitted it on a number of occasions toward the end of his mandate in the AUC in radio interviews and the book Mauricio Aranguren Molina, Mi confesión:Carlos Castaño revela sus secretos, Bogotá: Oveja Negra, 2001. Other members of the AUC have also admitted it before the Office of the Attorney General (Fiscalia) during their post-demobilization confessions (‘Asi opera el imperio criminal del paramilitary Rodrigo Tovar Pupo, alias Jorge 40’ El Tiempo, 8 October 2006 ). According to an ex-paramilitary and adviser of Carlos Castaño, Humberto Agredo, who is now a witness in the US in a narcotrafficking case, Don Berna is the main provider of drugs for the Cartel of Norte del Valle and together with Vincente Castaño he earns 50 per cent of the profit for the delivery of drugs from the areas under his domination. 12 Ernesto Baez, the ideologist of the AUC said: ‘The self-defence groups are not ending, but just transforming themselves into a political movement.’ See: ‘En desmovilizaciones, ni son todos los que estan, ni estan todos los que son’, El Tiempo, 12 December 2005. 13 Castaño left the scene in April of 2004. The GOC and the AUC say that he was killed. Some say that he was killed by his brother, Vicente Castaño, because he was about to enter an agreement with the Americans and reveal the identity of the narcotraffickers in the group. According to some, the offensive against Castaño begun on 27 February 2004 when his cousin Luis Angel Gil Zapata was found dead. ‘La DEA solicitó a Castaño a salir de la escena’ in El Colombiano (last accessed 30 March 2008; no longer available). 14 The only (known) written agreement that was reached was the ‘Acuerdo de Santa Fé de Ralito’ on 15 July 2003. This agreement is one page long and it lists ten clauses, of which only three are substantive, namely: (1) that the AUC commits to demobilize its forces by December 31/05; (2) that secured concentration zones would be created to facilitate the demobilization and disarmament processes; (3) that the AUC supports the government of Colombia in its fight against narcotraffic.

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15 See (accessed 4 August 2008). The last negotiations with the FARC took place during the Pastrana administration, but they did not result in an agreement or collective demobilizations. 16 See ‘Así fue la reunión de politicós y paras en Santa Fé de Ralito a finales de 2001’, El Tiempo, 27 November 2006. 17 See ‘Miembros del Ejército impulsaroncomienzo de los paras dijo salvatore Mancuso al iniciar confesión’ El Tiempo, 20 December 2006. 18 See Ninth OAS Ninth Report (accessed 4 August 2008). 19 See Colombian Police ‘Informe Control y Monitoreo’, June 2007. All of these entered the reintegration program, though a number did not continue the reintegration process. (accessed 4 August 2008). 20 There are 3,605 individually demobilized AUC members. Some of these demobilized before and during the negotiations, while others demobilized shortly after their groups because they were on leave, or otherwise not available when the group demobilized. 21 The following FARC Fronts have disbanded collectively: 65 of the company Cacica Gaitana and 17 of the mobile column Héroes de Marquetalia. (accessed 4 August 2008). 22 Though there have been important collective demobilizations in the past as a result of negotiations with the M-19, the FARC and the EPL, an actual demobilization program with benefits governed by the law did not exist until 1994 (decree 1385); however, this one conceived the demobilized individually, and not as a collectivity. For further discussion on the history of demobilization in Colombia see Juan Carlos Garzón ‘Desmovilizaciónes Individuales: las incertidumbres de la guerra y las limitaciónes de la paz’ (accessed 4 August 2008). 23 Comité Operativo para la Dejación de Armas is made up by member of the following institutions: Ministry of Jusice, Ministry of Defence, Reincorporation Program; Attorney General’s Office, Family Wellbeing Institute, and the Public Defender’ s Office (see Decree 128/2003). Its function is to ascertain that the demobilized was in fact a member of the illegal armed group s/he claims to have been a part of. This reduces the risk that civilians enter the demobilization program without having belonged to an armed group, solely to acquire special social and economic benefits. 24 Those who confessed to such crimes were sent to Santa Fé de Ralito, a government-controlled area where the talks were held. 25 See ‘En el 2006 Colombia tuvo la tasa mas baja de homicidios’ (accessed 4 August 2008). 26 See ‘Colombia’s Paramilitary DDR: Quiet and Tentative Success’, available in Spanish as ‘La desmovilización y el desarme paramilitar en Colombia: éxito provisional y silencioso’ at (accessed March 2008). 27 Security may be tied to factors other than disengagement, such as state capacity and governance. This chapter only considers disengagement. 28 For additional information see the OAS (MAPP-OEA) Ninth Report (3 July 2007) (accessed 4 August 2008) and the International Crisis Group Report ‘Colombia’s New Armed Groups’ (20 May 2007) (accessed 4 August 2008).

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29 January 2008 Report. Alta Consejería para la Réincorporación. 30 Interview with Frank Pearl, the High Commissioner for Reintegration. See ‘Proceso con los paras esta en su momento mas critico: Alto Consejero para tema de desmovilizados’ El Tiempo, 4 November 2006. 31 Interview with David Angel, Director of the Reincorporation Program until 2005. See ‘Desmovilizados al borde de un ataque de nervios’ in Semana.com (accessed 4 August 2008). 32 Different motivations may arise after they demobilize. For example, though all demobilize because the commander orders them to do so, some are happy to become reunited with their families and find in that a real motivation to become civilians anew. 33 Not all fighters from this group ended up demobilizing. Moreover, it appears that an important percentage of those who did may have since joined criminal gangs. 34 See ‘Familiares encuentran cadaveres, pero las autoridades no, en las Cruces’ El Tiempo, 12 August 2007. 35 See Marcella Ribetti. ‘The unveiled motivations of Colombian guerrillas’ in Small Wars and Insurgencies. Vol 18/4, 2007. 36 Members feared being persecuted and killed (in Spanish pelados, ‘skinned’). The FARC is extremely preoccupied with infiltrations into its ranks by the government for intelligence purposes, so they tend to interpret criticism as betrayal, and end up giving harsh punishments for actions that may only require minor ones. ‘One is always fearful that others will turn him in,’ said one of the respondents. ‘As a result we have to keep our emotions to ourselves.’ Ibid. 37 Comments of these who demobilize include: ‘They have a future because they have a lot of material resources. Imagine, they have possessions even in other countries.’ ‘The middle range leadership saved up all of the cash [for themselves] even while we had no food to eat.’ ‘The commanders took the extortion money – sometimes for themselves – and they gave us nothing. This too demoralizes us.’ Ibid. 38 Recently, more intense fighting with the government as a consequence of Plan Patriota has also been tied to an increase of defections; however, it appears that this provides at least as much of an opportunity as a motivation to negotiate. See Garzón, Juan Carlos, ‘Desmovilizaciónes Individuales: las incertdumbres de la Guerra y las limitaciónes de la Paz.’ (accessed 4 August 2008). 39 These are described in Law 782 of 2002 (which was slightly altered by Law 1106 of 2006) and further explained in Decreto 128 of 2003. 40 In November of 2007 the Reincorportion Program changed the name to Service Centers, Centros de Servicios in Spanish. 41 This data refers to July 2007. Source: Alta Consejería para la Reincorporación – Brigadas de documentación Julio /2007. 42 Eighth OAS (MAPP-OEA) Report, February 14, 2007. 43 See Tenth MAPP-OEA (OAS) Quarterly Report (accessed 4 August 2008). 44 Ninth MAPP-OEA (OAS) Report (accessed 4 August 2008). 45 See Tenth MAPP-OEA (OAS) Quarterly Report (accessed 4 August 2008). 46 The Reincorporation Office is now called Alta Consejería para la Reincorporación. 47 This data refers to statistical information for the month of July. It was provided by the Reincorporation office in Medellín (named Programa Paz y Reconciliacion) and the National Police. The data provided by the latter is available at (accessed 4 August 2008).

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48 Ibid. 49 Undisclosable source 50 ‘El Rearme Paramilitar’ Fundación Seguridad y Democracia, Informe Especial p. 27 (accessed 4 August 2008). 51 (accessed 13 August 2008). 10 Deradicalization and rehabilitation programmes targeting religious terrorists and extremists in the Muslim world: an overview 1 See e.g. chapters 2 and 3 in this volume. 2 Much of the information in this chapter is gathered through conversations that the authors have had over a period of time with various Government officials and people involved in the programmes. The al-Qaeda Taliban Monitoring Team of the United Nations 1267 Sanctions Committee, even before its involvement with the United Nations Global Counter Terrorism Strategy and the UN Secretary General’s task force (CTITF) in 2006, has been involved in discussions at both bilateral and multilateral levels on this topic. 3 Christopher Boucek, ‘Extremist Reeducation and Rehabilitation in Saudi Arabia’, Terrorism Monitor, Vol. 5, Issue 16, 16 August 2007, The Jamestown Foundation,

(accessed 4 August 2008). 4 Sayyid Imam al-Sharif’s ‘Rationalizing Jihad in Egypt and the World’ first appeared in serialised form in the Egyptian newspaper al Masri al Youm, and the Kuwaiti newspaper al Jarida in November 2007. 5 Based on discussions with Professor Mojaddedi and representatives of the Takhim-e Solh programme in Kabul, Afghanistan, May 2007 and May 2008. 6 See Michael Taarnby, ‘Yemen’s Committee for Dialogue: Can Jihadists return to Society?’ Terrorism Monitor, Vol. III, Issue 14 (15 July 2005), The Jamestown Foundation, (accessed 4 August 2008). See also chapter 11 of this volume. 7 Based on information from email correspondence with Eduardo Ugarte, Canberra University, Australia, March 2007. See also chapter 12 on South East Asia in this volume. 8 Based on correspondence with Dr Anna Kreikemeyer, Centre for OSCE Research (CORE). 9 Ibid. 10 The Indonesian case is discussed in detail in chapter 12 of this volume by Zachary Abuza. In addition to Indonesia, Singapore and Malaysia are also covered. See also International Crisis Group (2007) ‘Deradicalisation’ and Indonesian Prisons. Asia Report No.142, 19 November 2007. 11 Based on discussions held with Indonesian officials in April 2008. 12 Based on discussions held with Indonesian officials in May 2008. 13 Singapore is also covered in depth in chapter 12 in this volume by Zachary Abuza. 14 Based on discussions held with Singaporean officials in April 2008. 15 Information provided by Malaysian officials in October 2007. 16 Christopher Boucek, ‘Extremist Reeducation and Rehabilitation in Saudi Arabia’, Terrorism Monitor, Vol. 5, Issue 16, 16 August 2007, The Jamestown Foundation,

(accessed 4 August 2008). See also chapter 13 in this volume on Saudi Arabia, by Christopher Boucek.

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11 Opening up the jihadi debate: Yemen’s Committee for Dialogue 1 See Nick Pelham, ‘West fears Sana
a is playing double game’, Daily Telegraph, 2 March 2002; Nick Pelham, ‘Yemen: Centre of war on al-Qaeda’, BBC News Online, 14 March 2002; Andrew Buncombe and Raymond Whitaker, ‘Silent killer changes rules of engagement’, The Independent, 6 November 2002; and Gregory Johnsen, ‘Terrorists in Rehab’, WorldView Magazine 17, number 3. 2 Donna abu-Nasr, ‘Yemen’s Muslim leaders try unique approach to terrorism: Release repentant suspects, pay off tribes’, Associated Press, 2 May 2004. 3 Craig Whitlock, ‘Probe of USS Cole Bombing Unravels: Plotters Freed in Yemen’, Washington Post Foreign Service, 14 May 2008, A01. 4 See Eric Watkins, ‘Landscape of Shifting Alliances’, Terrorism Monitor (8 April 2004). 5 Paul Dresch, A History of Modern Yemen. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002, pp. 172–3. 6 ‘Non-state Armed Groups, Yemen’, Jane’s Sentinel Security Assessment – The Gulf States (19 January 2007). One study estimates that 27,000 Yemenis fought in Afghanistan: see David Cook, Paradigmatic Jihadi Movements, West Point: The Combating Terrorism Center, 2006, p. 26. 7 ‘Arab veterans of Afghanistan War lead new Islamic holy war’, Compass, 28 October 1994. (Available at [sic], accessed 4 August 2008.) 8 Based on Christopher Boucek interview with Yemeni government advisor, Sana
a, Yemen, July 2007. See also Michael Knights, ‘Internal Politics complicate counterterrorism in Yemen’, Jane’s Intelligence Review, February 2006. 9 US Department of State, Bureau of Intelligence and Research, ‘The Wandering Mujahidin: Armed and Dangerous’, Weekend Edition, 21–22 August 1993, p. 3. 10 Michael Knights, ‘Internal Politics complicate counterterrorism in Yemen’, Jane’s Intelligence Review, February 2006; ‘Arab veterans of Afghanistan War lead new Islamic holy war’, Compass, 28 October 1994 (available at www.fas.org, see note 7); and Eric Watkins, ‘Landscape of Shifting Alliances’, Terrorism Monitor, 8 April 2004. 11 Economist Intelligence Unit, Yemen Country Profile (2006), p. 6. 12 Based on an interview by Shazadi Beg with a Yemeni journalist, Sana
a, Yemen, 25 October 2007. 13 Ibid. 14 Ibid. 15 Eric Watkins, ‘Landscape of Shifting Alliances’, Terrorism Monitor, 8 April 2004. 16 Peter Bergen, Holy War, Inc. New York: The Free Press, 2001, p. 172 . 17 Simon Reeves, The New Jackals, London: Andre Deutsch Limited, 1999, p. 182. 18 For more on the IAAA, see David Cook, Paradigmatic Jihadi Movements, West Point: The Combating Terrorism Center, 2006, pp. 25–31; Sean O’Neill and David McGrory, The Suicide Factory: Abu Hamza and the Finsbury Park Mosque, London: HarperCollins, 2006; and Shelia Carapico, ‘Yemen and the Aden-Abyan Islamic Army’, Middle East Report Online, 18 October 2000. 19 See Peter Bergen, Holy War, Inc. New York: The Free Press, 2001, chapter 9; Lawrence Wright, The Looming Tower: al-Qaeda and the Road to 9/11, New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2006, pp. 318–21; Rohan Gunaratna, Inside al Qaeda: Global Network of Terror, New York: Columbia University Press, 2002, pp. 140–1; and ‘Non-state Armed Groups, Yemen’, Jane’s Sentinel Security Assessment – The Gulf States (19 January 2007). 20 ‘A Synopsis of the Terrorist Threat Facing the O&G Industry’, Oil and Gas Industry Terrorism Monitor, n.d. (available at www.ogi-tm.com, accessed March 2008).

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21 ‘Non-state Armed Groups, Yemen’, Jane’s Sentinel Security Assessment – The Gulf States (19 January 2007). 22 Donna abu-Nasr, ‘Yemen’s Muslim leaders try unique approach to terrorism: Release repentant suspects, pay off tribes’, Associated Press, 2 May 2004. 23 Andrew McGregor, ‘Prosecuting Terrorism: Yemen’s War on Islamist Militancy’, Terrorism Monitor, 4 May 2006. 24 See Gregory D. Johnsen and Brian O’Neill, ‘Yemen Attack Reveals Struggle Among Al-Qaeda’s Ranks’, Terrorism Focus, 10 July 2007; Gregory D. Johnsen, ‘Yemen Faces Second Generation of Islamist Militants’, Terrorism Focus, 14 August 2007, and Gregory D. Johnsen, ‘Attacks on Oil Industry are First Priority for al-Qaeda in Yemen’, Terrorism Focus, 5 February 2008. 25 Gregory D. Johnsen and Brian O’Neill, ‘Yemen Attack Reveals Struggle Among Al-Qaeda’s Ranks’, Terrorism Focus, 10 July 2007. 26 For more on the escapees, see Gregory D. Johnsen, ‘Tracking Yemen’s 23 Escaped Jihadi Operatives – Parts 1 & 2’, Terrorism Monitor, 27 September 2007 and 11 October 2007. 27 Christopher Boucek interview with Yemeni analyst, Sana
a, Yemen, July 2007. 28 Andrew McGregor, ‘Yemen Convicts PSO Members Involved in February’s Great Escape’, Terrorism Focus, 25 July 2006. 29 Mahmud Ma
ruf, ‘Chairman of the Committee for Religious Dialogue with alQa
ida Supporters in Yemen Humud al-Hattar Tells Al Quds al-Arabi: Violence is Due to Restricting Freedom of Islamists and the Positions Toward Arab Issues, Especially Palestine’, al-Quds al-Arabi (London), 18 December 2004. 30 Unless otherwise indicated, the information in this section is based on Shazadi Beg’s interview with Judge Hamoud al-Hitar, Sana
a, Yemen, 25 October 2007. 31 Al-Quds al-Arabi, 4 March 2004; Yemen Times, 27 January 2003. 32 Mahmud Ma
ruf, ‘Chairman of the Committee for Religious Dialogue with alQa
ida Supporters in Yemen Humud al-Hattar Tells Al Quds al-Arabi: Violence is Due to Restricting Freedom of Islamists and the Positions Toward Arab Issues, Especially Palestine’, al-Quds al-Arabi (London), 18 December 2004. 33 al-Quds al-Arabi (London), 4 March 2004. 34 In 1977 Egyptian Sheikh Muhammed Husain al-Dahabi, former minister of Awqaf (Religious Endowment) was kidnapped and murdered by the group Takfir wal Hijra, ‘Unraveling the Takfir wa al-Hijra mystery’, Jane’s Terrorism & Security Monitor, June 2007. 35 Judge Hamoud al-Hitar, interview by Shazadi Beg, Sana
a, Yemen, 25 October 2007. 36 Judge Hamoud Abdulhameed Al-Hitar, Dialogue and its Effects on Countering Terrorism: The Yemeni Experience, n.p., n.d., p. 16. Document in the possession of the authors. 37 Judge Hamoud al-Hitar, interview by Shazadi Beg, Sana
a, Yemen, 25 October 2007. 38 Ibid. 39 Nadya Labi, ‘What Would Allah Do?’ Legal Affairs, July/August 2005. 40 Judge Hamoud al-Hitar, interview by Shazadi Beg, Sana
a, Yemen, 25 October 2007. 41 Eric Westervelt, ‘Growing Repression in Yemen May Feed al-Qaeda’, National Public Radio, All Things Considered (originally broadcast 10 November 2005), available at (accessed 4 August 2008). 42 Judge Hamoud al-Hitar, interview by Shazadi Beg, Sana
a, Yemen, 25 October 2007. 43 See Judge Hamoud Abdulhameed Al-Hitar, Dialogue and its Effects on Countering Terrorism: The Yemeni Experience, n.p., n.d., document in the possession of the

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authors. See also Michael Taarnby, ‘Yemen’s Committee for Dialogue: The Relativity of a Counter Terrorism Success’, in A Future for the Young: Options for Helping Middle Eastern Youth Escape the Trap of Radicalization, Cheryl Bernard (ed.), Rand Corporation report WR-354, September 2005, p. 133. Dialogue rules are drawn from Judge Hamoud Abdulhameed Al-Hitar, Dialogue and its Effects on Countering Terrorism: The Yemeni Experience, n.p., n.d., p. 14, document in the possession of the authors. Michael Taarnby included a similar list of rules, albeit phrased differently, based upon the translation of a ‘single page manual’ in his ‘Yemen’s Committee for Dialogue: The Relativity of a Counter Terrorism Success’, p. 131. Ethical rules are drawn from Judge Hamoud Abdulhameed Al-Hitar, Dialogue and its Effects on Countering Terrorism: The Yemeni Experience, n.p., n.d., p. 14, document in the possession of the authors. Michael Taarnby included a similar list of rules, albeit phrased differently, based upon the translation of a ‘single page manual’ in his ‘Yemen’s Committee for Dialogue: The Relativity of a Counter Terrorism Success’, pp. 131–2. Judge Hamoud al-Hitar, interview by Shazadi Beg, Sana
a, Yemen, 25 October 2007. Ibid. Ibid. Abd al-Mun
im al-Jabri, ‘Yemeni Interior Minister Discusses Terrorism Issues, Cooperation with US’, 26 September (Sana
a), 17 October 2003. Brian Whitaker, ‘Yemen overview 2003–4’, The British Yemen Society (available at , accessed 8 August 2008). Judge Hamoud al-Hitar, interview by Shazadi Beg, Sana
a, Yemen, 25 October 2007. Two detainees have been reported to be over the age of 40. Amel al-Ariqi, ‘Gitmo returnees need rehabilitation program, lawyers speculate’, Yemen Times, 5 December 2007. As of December 2007, only 13 Yemenis have been repatriated from Guantanamo Bay, with most going straight to prison or put on trial: see Farah Stockman, ‘Nationality plays role in detainee release’, Boston Globe, 22 November 2007. Abd al-Mun
im al-Jabri, ‘Yemeni Interior Minister Discusses Terrorism Issues, Cooperation with US’, 26 September (Sana
a), 17 October 2003. Eric Westervelt, ‘Growing Repression in Yemen May Feed al-Qaeda’, National Public Radio, All Things Considered (originally broadcast 10 November 2005), available at (accessed 4 August 2008). Al-Sahwah (Sana
a), 13 December 2003. Al-Hitar has confirmed that surveillance of detainees would last for one year: Judge Hamoud al-Hitar, interview by Shazadi Beg, Sana
a, Yemen, 25 October 2007. Eric Westervelt, ‘Growing Repression in Yemen May Feed al-Qaeda’, National Public Radio, All Things Considered (originally broadcast 10 November 2005), available at (accessed 4 August 2008). Also see Peter Willems, ‘Unusual Tactics’, The Middle East, October 2004, p. 66. Judge Hamoud al-Hitar, interview by Shazadi Beg, Sana
a, Yemen, 25 October 2007. Khaled al-Anesi (HOOD executive director), interview by Shazadi Beg, Sana
a, Yemen, 26 October 2007. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid.

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63 Eric Westervelt, ‘Growing Repression in Yemen May Feed al-Qaeda’, National Public Radio, All Things Considered (originally broadcast 10 November 2005), available at (accessed 4 August 2008). 64 Based on Shazadi Beg’s interview with Yemeni journalist, Sana
a, Yemen, 26 October 2007. 65 See Craig Whitlock, ‘Probe of USS Cole Bombing Unravels: Plotters Freed in Yemen’, Washington Post Foreign Service, 14 May 2008, A01. 66 Based on Shazadi Beg’s interview with Yemeni journalist, Sana
a, Yemen, 26 October 2007 67 Ibid. 68 Interview conducted by Shazadi Beg with Professor Mohammed Abdul Malik al-Mutawakal in Sana
a on 26 October 2007. 69 The use of hostages – holding captive a person’s loved ones until the individual turns themselves into the authorities – is a long-standing practice in Yemen. These hostage prisons are run by the government as well as tribal and provincial chiefs. The private prisons run by tribal chiefs in particular are open to abuse as there is no oversight in place. Hostage prisons run by the Interior Ministry to detain the families of escapees to encourage them to hand themselves in were criticized by human rights groups and many others. In September 2007, under pressure, the cabinet passed a directive to abolish them. Moreover, released detainees are encouraged to marry and then their wife’s family is held in the event of trouble. Interview conducted by Shazadi Beg with Dr Huda Ali Abdullatef Alban in Sana
a, Yemen, on 24 October 2007. 12 The rehabilitation of Jemaah Islamiyah detainees in South East Asia: a preliminary assessment 1 The author would like to thank Dr John Horgan, Dr Rohan Gunaratna, Mohammad bin Ali, Dr Christopher Boucek and several other people who have asked that they remain anonymous for their suggestions, comments and assistance. 2 This is based on a running database compiled by the author, based on press reports, official press releases and information provided by human rights groups. 3 Quoted in Al Qaeda: Turning the Terrorists, British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) Documentary, 2006. 4 Quoted in Simon Montlake, ‘U.S. Tries Rehab for Religious Extremists’, Christian Science Monitor, 9 October 2007. 5 JI was founded in 1992/93 by former members of Darul Islam, Abdullah Sungkar and Abu Bakar Ba
asyir, who had become frustrated with the organization’s quietist approach to implementing an Islamic state and the gradual political emasculation of Islamists following the 1965 coup by Maj. Gen. Suharto. 6 The analysis of the International Crisis Group has concluded that these kinship ties, including marital ties, are the single most important determinant of JI membership. International Crisis Group, Jemaah Islamiyah in Southeast Asia: Damaged But Still Dangerous, 26 August 2003; ICG, Indonesia Backgrounder: Jihad in Central Sulawesi, 3 February 2004. 7 Wong Chun Wai and Lourdes Charles, ‘More than 100 marriages involve key JI members,’ The Star, 7 September 2004. 8 Ibid. 9 ‘Plain Coincidences, Says Nasir,’ The Star, 7 September 2004. 10 BBC Transcripts, Tape 8, 98. 11 The Malaysians have shut down the Tarbiyah Luqmanul Hakiem school, Johor, and Sekolah Menengah Arab Darul Anuar, Kota Baru. The Cambodians have shut down the Om Al Qura foundation school.

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12 Interview with a senior Indonesian National Police intelligence official, Jakarta, 10 March 2003.These include Mutaqin Jabarah in Central Java, Darul Syahadin and the Madrasah Luqmanul Hakiem in Kelantan, and the Hidyatullah network throughout East Kalimantan and South Sulawesi, which is where several of the Bali bombers were hiding when they were arrested. JI has also been able to recruit further afield in schools in Pakistan, Yemen, Egypt, and at the Islamic University of Medina, Saudi Arabia. Dore Gold, Hatred’s Kingdom: How Saudi Arabia Supports the New Global Terrorism. Washington DC: Regnery Publishing 2003, p. 90. 13 Dan Rivers, ‘Accused Asian terror leader: Expect more blood,’ CNN, 26 June 2007, at (accessed 5 August 2008). 14 Hamoud al-Hitar argues that, technically, it is not recidivism, as most had gone to fight in Iraq, which he characterized as a legitimate jihad, not terrorism. See Terrence Henry, ‘Get Out of Jihad Free,’ The Atlantic, June 2007, 39–40. For a detailed account of the Yemeni dialogue programme, see chapter 11 of this volume. 15 Some argue that al-Hitar is a member of the government’s Political Security Organization, which further discredits him in the eyes of the Islamist militants. The PSO has also had its own shady past in dealing with militants. PSO members were implicated in the escape of 23 militants including several who were convicted for their role in the attack on the USS Cole. The tunnel from which the 23 escaped emerged in al-Hitar’s mosque. 16 Terrence Henry, ‘Get Out of Jihad Free,’ The Atlantic, June 2007, 39–40. 17 Christopher Boucek, ‘Extremist Reeducation and Rehabilitation in Saudi Arabia,’ Terrorism Monitor, Vol. 6, No. 16, (16 August 2007). 18 Al Qaeda: Turning the Terrorists, BBC, 2006. 19 Membongkar Jamaah Islamiya (Exposing Jamaah Islamiya), 2005. 20 Al Qaeda: Turning the Terrorists, BBC, 2006. 21 Ibid. 22 Di Martin, ‘Bali Bomber Now Campaigns to Stop Terrorism,’ Australian Broadcast Corporation, 20 September 2007; Natalie O’Brien, ‘Terrorists Who Say No to Terror,’ The Australian, 22 October 2007. 23 Ibid. Mukhlas is also Nasir bin Abas’ brother-in-law. 24 The lone exception to this is ‘ “Deradicalisation” and Indonesian Prisons’, International Crisis Group, Asia Report No. 142, 19 November 2007, at (accessed 5 August 2008). 25 Sydney Jones, talk at PASOC, Honolulu, HI, 17 April 2007. 26 Often referred to by its bahasa name, Densus-88. 27 Martin Abbugao, ‘Indonesia Shifts Battles Against Extremists,’ AFP, 29 March 2007. 28 Ibid. 29 Then again, the MUI, especially under Din Syamsuddin, has drifted far to the right, and Din has a long history of intolerance towards religious minorities in the country. 30 ‘ “Deradicalisation” and Indonesian Prisons’, International Crisis Group, Asia Report No. 142, 19 November 2007, at (accessed 5 August 2008). 31 Ibid. 32 Author interview, Washington DC, 2 May 2008. 33 ‘ “Deradicalisation” and Indonesian Prisons’, International Crisis Group, Asia Report No. 142, 19 November 2007, at (accessed 5 August 2008). 34 Mark Dunn and Shannon Mcrae, ‘Islamic Terrorist Set Free,’ Herald Sun, 17 November 2006.

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35 For example, Indonesia released two Bali bombers and nine other militants for Hari Raya/Eid on 24 October 2006. Sirojul Munir and Muhammad Rudi bin Salim were both jailed for five years in 2003 for helping key mastermind Al Imron to avoid capture. There was no evidence that they were released specifically because of successful deradicalization. 36 Cindy Wockner, ‘Bali Bombers’ Sentences Likely Cut for Ramadan’, www.news.com.au, 2 October 2007, at (accessed 5 August 2008). 37 Indonesian officials have hid behind ludicrous claims that since JI is not registered, it cannot be banned, nor can they claim that it is pointless to ban something that ‘is not a formal organization with card-carrying members’. President Yudhoyono says that he is willing to submit legislation to parliament that could lead to the proscription of JI, but only after seeing proof that the organization exists. As he told Time magazine: ‘If there are explanations and proof that JI as an organization does exist in Indonesia, and if it is legally proved that its members are involved in terrorist activities, then it will be declared a banned organization. We will use the legal process in order for this to become a legal and law enforcement issue, not a political one.’ Indonesian officials have tried to focus on the small component groups of JI, the regional organizations established by members. As the current Coordinating Minister for Political and Security Affairs, Admiral Widodo AS, insisted, ‘As a formal organization, Jemaah Islamiyah has never existed. We must be cognizant that if the government is going to ban any organization, it cannot be called “Jemaah Islamiyah”, but must be a new “fringe group”.’ Despite the intense lobbying by both domestic security officials and by the international community on the Indonesian government to ban JI, few politicians in the world’s largest Muslim community have the political courage to ban an organization that a) simply translates as ‘Islamic community’; and b) many Muslims do not believe really exists. ‘The reason this is not being done immediately [banning JI]’, explained Ansyaad Mbai, ‘is because the political situation is still very sensitive.’ Simon Elegant, ‘I have to face many fundamental issues’, Exclusive Interview with Indonesia’s New President, Time Asia (1 November 2004); ‘Widodo AS: Jemaah Islamiyah Does Not Formally Exist,’ Tempo, 11 October 2005; ‘Jemaah Islamiyah to be Banned,’ Laksamana.net, 21 March 2005. 38 See the author’s ‘The Hezbollah Model Spreads to Southeast Asia,’ The Middle East Quarterly, (Winter 2008). 39 Media outlets and arms linked to JI include The MMI’s Wihdah Press, Afkar Publishers, Ar-Rahmah Media (), and Aqwam Press, which is run by a prominent JI sympathizer, Bambang Sukirno and which published Imam Samudra’s biography, Aku Melawan Teroris (I Fight Terrorists). 40 A Suspension Direction (SD) is a direction made by the Minister to suspend the operation of an existing Order of Detention (OD) subject to the execution of a bond and to such conditions as the Minister sees it. The conditions may include restrictions in respect of a person’s residence, employment, movements and activities. The SD will expire when the OD expires, i.e. if the SD is issued one year after the issue of a two-year OD, then the SD will expire when the two-year OD expires (An RO may be issued upon the expiry of the SD/OD.) The Minister may revoke the SD if the ex-detainee failed to observe any condition imposed on him or it is necessary in the public interest to revoke the SD. The issue of the SD is provided for under Section 10 of the ISA. Ministry of Home Affairs, ‘ISA Booklet,’ 5 March 2004, at . 41 There is debate over the success of the programme as there have been very high rates of recidivism in Yemen. Roughly 200 members have been re-arrested. Many

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saw the dialogue as a means to get out of prison. See chapter 11 of this volume for a description of the programme. (accessed 5 August 2008). (accessed 5 August 2008). The membership can be found at: and (both accessed 5 August 2008). Singapore: Peace Matters, 2006. Imam Samudra’s book, is entitled Aku Melawan Teroris (I Fight Terrorists), which he published while in jail. (accessed 5 August 2008). For example, see the speech of Minister Lim Boon Heng, of the Prime Minister’s Office, Singapore, 7 August 2007, at (accessed 5 August 2008). One of whom was later put on OR status. Ministry of Home Affairs, Press Release, ‘Further Releases, Issuance of Restriction Orders & Detentions Under The Internal Security Act,’ 24 January 2008, at (accessed 5 August 2008). Republic of Singapore, Ministry of Home Affairs, The Jemaah Islamiyah Arrests and the Treat of Terrorism (white paper), Singapore, 2003, p. 19. Ibid. Sue-Ann Chia, ‘ “Self-Radicalised” Law Grad, 4 JI Militants Held,’ Straits Times, 9 June 2007; Ministry of Home Affairs, Press Release, ‘Further Releases, Issuance of Restriction Orders & Detentions Under The Internal Security Act,’ 24 January 2008, at (accessed 5 August 2008); Julia Ng, ‘2 more detained under Internal Security Act, JI members released,’ Channel News Asia, 25 January 2008, at (accessed 5 August 2008). Ministry of Home Affairs, Press Release, ‘Further Detentions, Releases & Issuance of Restriction Orders under the Internal Security Act,’ 8 June 2007, at (accessed 5 August 2008). Also see ‘Comments By DPM and Minister for Home Affairs, Mr Wong Kan Seng on Recent ISA Detentions,’ 9 June 2007, at (accessed 5 August 2008). See Keith Lin, ‘New Website to Clarify Correct Islamic Teachings,’ The Straits Times, 8 August 2007. . Simon Montlake, ‘U.S. Tries Rehab for Religious Extremists,’ Christian Science Monitor, 9 October 2007. As Rohan Gunaratna explained: ‘The Singapore programme is widely consulted by a number of other governments. For instance, ICPVTR was invited by Detainee Task Force 134 to advice the US and Iraqi forces to develop the detainee rehabilitation programme. Ustaz Mohamed bin Ali, Secretary of the RRG and Professor Rohan Gunaratna, head of ICPVTR traveled to Baghdad in December 2006 as advisors to the coalitional provincial authority. They spent time at Camp Cropper interviewing detainees including al Qaeda and other high value detainees. Based on their research, the US successfully developed and launched a programme for rehabilitating detainees in Iraq in 2007.’ Personal correspondence with Dr Gunaratna, 12 November 2007. (accessed 5 August 2008). The clerics who have been publicly identified as being part of the RRG are Shaykh Mohammad Ibrahim Mohammad Kassim, Ustaz Mohammad Bin Haj Ali, Ustaz Ali Mohammad, Ustaz Hasbi, Ustaz Muhammad Haniff Hassan and Ustaz Tengku Fauzi. A number of analysts do not believe that the KMM is a separate organization

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66 67

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from JI; they think it is an artificial construct of the Malaysian security forces, which were willing to acknowledge a home-grown militant organization but did not want to admit that it was part of a transnational terrorist organization. Many see it as one of JI’s wakalah. The Abolish ISA Movement, a coalition of 82 civil society groups, claims that there were 115 persons detained under the ISA for terrorism-related charges between 2001 and 2007. In a 2005 Report, Human Rights Watch wrote, ‘As of September 2005, the Malaysian government holds 112 detainees under the ISA. Sixty-five of them are alleged members of Jemmah Islamiyah.’ See (accessed 5 August 2008) and ‘Detained Without Trial: Abuse of Internal Security Act Detainees in Malaysia,’ September 2005 Vol. 17, No. 9(C), at (accessed 5 August 2008). Hambali’s wife, Noralwizah Lee Binti Abdullah, was arrested with him in Ayudhdhya Thailand in August 2003 and soon after rendered to the Malaysians. Yazid Sufaat’s wife Sejahratul Dursina, also known as Chomel Sufaat, was taken into custody in late 2001. Along with her husband, she was a co-owner of two important companies: Green Laboratories Medicine, which was chosen to be one of al-Qaeda’s two anthrax production facilities in South East Asia, and Infocus Technologies, through which Zaccarias Moussaoui applied and received a US visa. See (accessed 5 August 2008). Two of whom are nationals of the Philippines, Jeknal Adil and Binsali Omar. Muhammad Radzi bin Abdul Razak et al. v. Malaysia, Working Group on Arbitrary Detention, U.N. Doc. E/CN.4/2005/6/Add.1 at 49 (2004), at (accessed 5 August 2008). Edmund Bon, Nik Mohamed Ikhwan and Joachim Maria, The Malaysian Bar Association, ‘Report on visit to ISA detainees on 14 June 2005,’ at (accessed 5 August 2008). Author interview, Kuala Lumpur, 18 June 2005. Malaysia’s Islamic Affairs Department has offices in all 13 states, and runs the parallel sharia courts system that have purview over family law ; ; . The video of the first news report can be found at (all accessed 5 August 2008). Edmund Bon, Nik Mohamed Ikhwan and Joachim Maria, The Malaysian Bar Association, ‘Report on visit to ISA detainees on 14 June 2005,’ at (accessed 5 August 2008). Mark Bendeich, ‘Malaysia Says Has Dismantled Islamic Terror Cells,’ Reuters, 21 June 2005. Author interviews. Nasir bin Abas, Jaafar Anwarul, Samsul Bahari Hussein and Amran Mansor. Nik Aziz is a firebrand and vehemently anti-American cleric. His son’s arrest in August 2001 was widely seen as political. The then prime minister, Mahathir Mohammad, was ailing in the polls, and went after PAS, which did very well in the 1999 elections, winning two of Malaysia’s 13 state governments. As PAS wrote in their paper, ‘The ISA was used to tarnish the image of PAS and its leaders. It was an attempt to brand PAS as a terror group.’ The ISA is the bête noir of all

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Notes

opposition parties, as well as human rights organizations, and it has always been used for political purposes. Much of the Malaysian populace was sceptical regarding JI and KMM and refused to believe that Nik Adli’s arrest was anything but political. But Nik Adli was no innocent. He was trained in Afghanistan and had close ties to the current leaders of Thailand’s insurgency. He trained with the GMIP, whose leader Nasori Saeseng was also with him in Afghanistan. He was the master of the family-founded madrasa, SM Arab Darul Anwar, in Kelantan. The school, which the author has visited, is a very hardline school that has graduated a disproportionate number of militants. It was thought to be an important feeder school for JI and the KMM. Ian Mcintyre, ‘Released Nik Adli Wants Time to Ponder Over Freedom,’ The Star, 19 October 2006. ‘Wan Min Urges Dr. Azhari and Nordin to Repent,’ Bernama, 23 March 2004. For example, in 1994, Abuya Ashaari Muhammed and other leaders of the al-Arqam sect were arrested for preaching false Islamic teachings. The al-Arqam sect preached that Ashaari Muhammed was a messiah who ‘had the authority to forgive the sins of Muslims’. Al-Arqam spread quickly in rural Malaysia in the early-1990s and claimed to have some 100,000 members. Ashari and the others were detained for two months and were released only after renouncing their sect on TV. How sincere their repudiation was is debatable. A decade later, the Malaysian government (along with the Bruneian and Indonesian governments) was contemplating banning Ashaari Muhammed’s new venture, the Rufaqa Corporation. Like al-Arqam, Rufaqa publishes Islamic books, CDs, herbal remedies, and has affiliated companies across South East Asia. The Malaysian government has not yet labelled Rufaqa a heretical entity, but is concerned about the swift growth of the company and has ominously warned: ‘Such false teachings can create a chaotic situation in the Muslim community.’ Zachary Abuza, ‘The State of Jemaah Islamiyah: Terrorism And Insurgency In Southeast Asia Five Years After Bali’, The Jebsen Center For CounterTerrorism Studies Research Briefing Series, Vol. 2, No. 1 (November 2007) at (accessed 5 August 2008). Zachary Abuza, ‘Jemaah Islamiyah and the Inverse Triangle,’ Unpublished Manuscript (October 2006).

13 Extremist re-education and rehabilitation in Saudi Arabia 1 al-Ikhbariyah Saudi television, 27 April 2007. 2 Author’s interview with Dr Abdulrahman Al-Hadlaq, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, 6 November 2007. 3 Badea Abu Al-Naja, ‘Challenging Task of Integrating Ex-Convicts Into Society’, Arab News, 28 October 2007. 4 ‘Saudi Arabia: Official Prison Visit Leads to the Pardoning of 1,000 Detainees’, Asharq Alawsat, 4 May 2006. 5 Raid Qusti, ‘Coupons Instead of Cash for Needy’, Arab News, 21 September 2007. 6 Ibid. 7 Habib Shaikh, ‘Makkah committee gives 40 ex-convicts a fresh start in life’, Khaleej Times, 8 May 2007. 8 Badea Abu Al-Naja, ‘Challenging Task of Integrating Ex-Convicts Into Society’, Arab News, 28 October 2007. 9 Habib Shaikh, ‘Makkah committee gives 40 ex-convicts a fresh start in life’, Khaleej Times, 8 May 2007.

Notes

293

10 Raid Qusti, ‘Cash Cards for Women Prisoners’, Arab News, 30 May 2007. 11 Raid Qusti, ‘Coupons Instead of Cash for Needy’, Arab News, 21 September 2007. 12 Mariam Al Hakeem, ‘Fund to help freed prisoners start business’, Gulf News, 24 May 2007. 13 Lulwa Shalhoub, ‘Welfare Caravan to Help Rehabilitate Former Convicts Back in Society’, Arab News, 24 June 2007. 14 Badea Abu Al-Naja, ‘56 Prisoners Freed From Makkah Jail After Pardon’, Arab News, 14 September 2007. 15 Raid Qusti, ‘Coupons Instead of Cash for Needy’, Arab News, 21 September 2007. 16 Based on author interviews in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, March 2007. 17 For example, see Badea Abu Al-Naja, ‘They Now See the Error of Their Ways’, Arab News, 5 October 2007. 18 Based on author interviews in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, March 2007. 19 In fact, one of the first English-language sources to unknowingly allude to the Counselling Program notes that ‘Muslim clerics are used to “verbally beat” the prisoners, telling them that they have misinterpreted Islam and should confess all they know to win favor with God’: Nicholas Blanford, ‘Saudis mount intense drive against terror’, Christian Science Monitor, 29 May 2003. See also Megan K. Slack, ‘Saudis Confront Extremists with Convert’s Passion’, Los Angeles Times, 17 November 2003. 20 This criticism needs to be viewed in the proper context. These individuals should not be confused with true Saudi opposition figures, however, nor are their representative of the official ulema. As independent scholars, they are not officially affiliated with the government, are able to criticize the regime, and they therefore carry credibility with the public. The decision by the Interior Ministry to invite these clerics into the prison system led the Mufti to question why these sheikhs were entrusted with this task (interview with Prince Mohammed bin Nayef, Assistant Minister of Interior for Security Affairs, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, October 2007). 21 Interview with Prince Mohammed bin Nayef, Assistant Minister of Interior for Security Affairs, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, October 2007. 22 Author interview with Dr Abdulrahman Al-Hadlaq, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, March 2007. 23 See Reporters, ‘Life After Guantanamo’, first broadcast 7 December 2007 by France 24 (, accessed 5 August 2008). 24 For instance, see P.K. Abdul Ghafour, ‘Most Terror Suspects Lack Knowledge of Religion’, Arab News, 24 November 2005; ‘ “Extremists have no firm religious beliefs” ’, Khaleej Times, 27 November 2005; and Mariam Al Hakeem, ‘Most Saudi terror suspects disown deviant thoughts’, Gulf News, 16 March 2007. 25 See also Samir Al-Saadi, ‘Nine Gitmo Returnees Released, 700 Deviants Reeducated’, Arab News, 29 August 2006, quoting Shaikh Mohammed al-Fifi. 26 Based on author’s interview with Dr Turki al-Atyan, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, November 2007. Cited in Christopher Boucek, ‘The Saudi Process of Repatriating and Reintegrating Guantanamo Returnees’, CTC Sentinel volume 1, issue 1 (December 2007), p. 12. 27 Interview with Prince Mohammed bin Nayef, Assistant Minister of Interior for Security Affairs, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, October 2007. 28 See Reporters, ‘Life After Guantanamo’, first broadcast 7 December 2007 by France 24 (, accessed 5 August 2008). 29 Interview with Dr Abdulrahman Al-Hadlaq, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, November 2007.

294

Notes

30 See ‘Saudis helping freed terror suspects; Trying to pull militants away from terrorism’, The Vancouver Province, 26 April 2007. 31 As of October 2007, the Interior Ministry had helped 31 of 60 Guantanamo returnees get married; the ministry has promised similar assistance to other program participants on the condition that they had not been married before. For more on this topic, see Turki al-Saheil, ‘Former Saudi Guantanamo Inmates Get a New Start’, Asharq Alawsat, 3 October 2007. There have also been reports that the former detainees are assisted in finding brides: see ‘Saudis helping freed terror suspects; Trying to pull militants away from terrorism’, The Vancouver Province, 26 April 2007. 32 Interestingly, this also applies to non-family members. There have been occasions when furloughed Guantanamo returnees have been followed by the family members of those still remaining at Guantanamo Bay. This was done to make sure that the returnees did not do anything that would jeopardize the repatriation program for those loved ones yet to be repatriated. Such collective responsibility is a common factor in Saudi rehabilitation and after-care programs. See Christopher Boucek, ‘The Saudi Process of Repatriating and Reintegrating Guantanamo Returnees’, CTC Sentinel volume 1, issue 1 (December 2007), p. 11. 33 So far it has only been male relatives who have signed for a detainee’s release. There is no restriction against female relatives signing for a prisoner’s release, and the Advisory Committee would like to see female family members get involved in this way. Interview with Prince Mohammed bin Nayef, Assistant Minister of Interior for Security Affairs, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, October 2007. 34 Data in this section is based on author interviews and research in Saudi Arabia, March 2007, including interviews with Dr Abdulrahman al-Hadlaq, Advisor to HRH Assistant Minister of Interior for Security Affairs and Major General Mansour al-Turki, Official Security Spokesman, Ministry of Interior, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, March 2007. 35 This factor has been noted as contributing to the program’s success. When asked if the Counselling Program could work in other countries, al-Hadlaq noted that some countries do not benefit from having so many experts, and therefore will have a much harder time finding qualified personnel to run the program (interview with al-Hadlaq, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, November 2007). 36 Author’s interviews in Saudi Arabia, November 2007. 37 Interview with Prince Mohammed bin Nayef, Assistant Minister of Interior for Security Affairs, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, October 2007. 38 Although Saudi officials have never stated as much to this author, it would be extremely unlikely that none of the program participants have been used to collect intelligence about their former colleagues. It has been suggested that some detainees have been ‘turned’ and are then released and observed in order to lead authorities to as yet undiscovered associates and networks. Based on the author’s discussions with a European military officer. 39 Friday congregational prayers. 40 This storyline bears similarities to the real life story of one of the rehabilitation program’s more famous participants, Ahmed al-Shayea: see Nic Robertson, ‘Failed suicide bomber turns on al-Qaeda’, CNN.com, 14 September 2007. For a similar story see Steven R. Hurst, ‘Mentally retarded women used in bombings’, Associated Press, 1 February 2008. 41 For more on these activities, see Abdallah al-Ziyadi, ‘Interior Ministry: Seminars and Lectures in Schools and Universities to Combat Terrorist Ideology’, Asharq Alawsat, 29 November 2006. 42 Interviews with al-Hadlaq and al-Turki, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, March 2007. 43 Sultan Al-Obathani, ‘Saudi Arabia: Over 400 Extremists Released in the last six

Notes

44

45 46 47 48

49

50 51 52

53 54 55 56

57 58 59 60 61

295

months’, Asharq Alawsat, 22 November 2005, citing Saud al Musaybih, Director General for Public Relations and Guidance, Ministry of Interior. Turki al-Suhayl, ‘Saudi Arabia: Decisive Turnaround for Takfiris Through Counselling and Release of Detainees for Security Reasons; al-Washm Blast has Caused imbalance Within al-Qa
ida Organization’s Ranks’, Ashraq Alawsat, 30 November 2005. FBIS translated text. Sultan Al-Obathani, ‘Saudi Arabia: Over 400 Extremists Released in the last six months’, Asharq Alawsat, 22 November 2005, citing Saud al Musaybih, Director General for Public Relations and Guidance, Ministry of Interior. Interview with Prince Mohammed bin Nayef, Assistant Minister of Interior for Security Affairs, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, October 2007. Interview with al-Hadlaq, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, November 2007. Turki al-Suhayl, ‘Saudi Arabia: Decisive Turnaround for Takfiris Through Counselling and Release of Detainees for Security Reasons; al-Washm Blast has Caused imbalance Within al-Qa
ida Organization’s Ranks’, Ashraq Alawsat, 30 November 2005, citing Sheikh Ali al-Nafisah. FBIS translated text. Turki al-Suhayl, ‘Al-Ubaykan: Al-Qa
ida and Books of Abu Qatadah Al-Maqdisi Have the Most Prominent Influence on the Minds of the Deceived Youths’, Asharq Alawsat, 9 September 2005. FBIS translated text. A member of the Advisory Committee, Sheikh Obaykan is also the judicial advisor to the Justice Ministry and a member of the Majlis ash-Shoura. For more on Obaykan, see David Ottaway, ‘Saudi Effort Draws on Radical Clerics to Combat Lure of Al-Qaeda’, Washington Post, 7 May 2006. ‘ “Extremists have no firm religious beliefs” ’, Khaleej Times, 27 November 2005. According to Committee members, some meetings did initially occur with several sheikhs present. Interviews with Sheikh Ahmed Hamid Jelani and Care Rehabilitation Centre staff, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, November 2007. Even during regular meetings and discussion about non-religious or contentious topics, Committee workers are evaluating program participants’ development and progress. Observations made during site visit to Care Rehabilitation Centre, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, November 2007. Turki al-Suhayl, ‘Al-Ubaykan: Al-Qa
ida and Books of Abu Qatadah Al-Maqdisi Have the Most Prominent Influence on the Minds of the Deceived Youths’, Asharq Alawsat, 9 September 2005. FBIS translated text. Turki al-Suhayl, ‘Rehabilitating Reformed Jihadists’, Asharq Alawsat, 6 September 2007. Ibid. Turki al-Suhayl, ‘Saudi Arabia: Decisive Turnaround for Takfiris Through Counselling and Release of Detainees for Security Reasons; al-Washm Blast has Caused imbalance Within al-Qa
ida Organization’s Ranks’, Ashraq Alawsat, 30 November 2005, citing Sheikh Ali al-Nafisah. FBIS translated text, reproduced as printed. Data based on author’s interview with Prince Mohammed bin Nayef, Assistant Minister of Interior for Security Affairs, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, October 2007. al-Madinah, 20 April 2007. This data is based on the author’s interviews with Prince Mohammed bin Nayef, Assistant Minister of Interior for Security Affairs, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, October 2007. For example, see a list of meetings of Singapore’s Religious Rehabilitation Group, available at (accessed 5 August 2008). Brian Brady, ‘Imams bid to convert prison radicals’, Scotland on Sunday,

296

62 63 64 65 66 67

Notes

12 November 2006; Mariam Al Hakeem, ‘Britain seeks help from Saudi counselling panels’, Gulf News, 8 December 2007. Walter Pincus, ‘U.S. Working to Reshape Iraqi Detainees’, Washington Post, 19 September 2007; Alexandra Zavis, ‘A “battlefield of the mind” in Iraq’, Los Angeles Times, 16 November 2007. Based on author interviews, Saudi Arabia, March 2007. al-Madinah, 21–22 May 2007. al-Watan, 30 April 2007. ar-Riyad, 3 May 2007. Ibid. This sentiment is also expressed in the Western press, for instance see Eli Lake, ‘A State Department Official Praises Saudis on Terror’, New York Sun, 13 December 2007; Alexandra Zavis, ‘A “battlefield of the mind” in Iraq’, Los Angeles Times, 16 November 2007.

14 Pakistan: in search of a disengagement strategy 1 Interview conducted on 13 April 2008 with the ANP in Peshawar. Details of the government’s comprehensive strategy appeared in an article by Khaid Aziz in The News, 1 May 2008. 2 The founders of modern radical Islam are thought to include al-Maududi and al-Banna. The latter incorporated jihad into politics as a means of rejecting Western ideologies. After his assassination in 1949, the idea was further elaborated by Sayyad Qutb and the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt. 3 Fazal ur Rahim Marwat, From Mujahir to Mujahid: The politics of war through Aid: a case study of the Afghan refugees in the NWFP, Parvez Khan Toru (ed.), Pakistan Study Centre, University of Peshawar, 2005. 4 For an interesting account of this period see S. Coll, Ghost Wars. The Secret History of the CIA, Afghanistan and Bin Laden, from the Soviet Invasion to September 10, 2001, London: Penguin, 2005. 5 P. Musharraf, In the Line of Fire, New York: Simon and Schuster, 2006, p. 202. 6 Author’s interview with former militants and martyrs’ families, Lahore, January 2006. 7 Author’s interview with former militant, Rawalpindi, December 2006. 8 The authors have conducted interviews in Pakistan in the period 2005–6. LB conducted 45 interviews in NWFP, Punjab and Sindh, both with people within militant movements and people who had left them. A book based on these interviews is to be published by Gyldendal (Oslo) in 2009. 9 Ibid. 10 Author’s interview, Rawalpindi, January 2006. 11 Author’s interview, Lahore, April 2006. 12 Author’s interview, Lahore, January 2006. 13 Author’s interview, Lahore, January to February 2006. 14 A teacher from Khyber Pass interviewed on condition of anonymity, November 2006. 15 Interviews conducted with families of ‘martyrs’ in Muzaffarabad and Lahore, April 2006. 16 Interview conducted in Lahore, April 2006. 17 A senior official from the Frontier Constabulary interviewed in August 2007 on condition of anonymity. 18 Ibid. 19 The Taliban claim that South Korea paid 20 million US dollars for the release of their citizens kidnapped in summer 2007. The South Korean government denies this. 20 Author’s interview, Mansehra, December 2005.

Notes 21 22 23 24

25 26

27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36

37 38 39

297

Author’s interview, Islamabad, December 2005. Author’s interview, Rawalpindi, March 2006. Author’s interview, Lahore, April 2006. In August 2007 a raid on a house in Lower Dir found suicide jackets, detonators and 250 sticks of dynamite. In a separate incident in DI Khan, 109 mortars were found in a vehicle intended for Islamabad and Rawalpindi. Dawn Newspaper, 28 and 29 November 2007. J. Straziuso, ‘The Taliban recruiting children for suicide attacks,’ Associated Press, 15 July 2007. The Governor of NWFP, General (R) Ali Aurakzai stated on Kabarnama (news), Pakistan State Television (PTV), 22 September 2007, that there would be a reduction of forces from some areas including at some checkpoints as the result of a peace agreement. Author’s interview, Rawalpindi, April 2006. Gianomenico Picco (2005), ‘Tactical and Strategic Terrorists’, Terrorism and Political Violence, vol. 17, Nos. 1–2 (Winter 2005). Abdul Hameed Bakier, ‘Imprisoned Leader of Egypt’s Islamic Jihad challenges Al Qaeda’, Global Terrorism Analysis, The Jamestown Foundation (Terrorism Monitor, vol. 5, Issue 23, 10 December 2007). ‘U.S. considers new covert push within Pakistan’, The New York Times, 6 January 2008, Online. Available HTTP: (accessed 5 August 2008). Author’s visit to Adiala prison, Rawalpindi 2006. The interview was conducted with a prisoner who wished to remain anonymous. Amnesty International, Working to stop Human Rights violations in the War on Terror, Amnesty International report, 8 December 2006. A senior official from the Federal Investigation Agency (FIA) interviewed in August 2007 on condition of anonymity. Interviews by the authors. Interview by the author, Rawalpindi, April 2006. Many terrorism suspects are detained by the Pakistani authorities. They are neither charged with an offence, produced before a court or released. Many of their cases are being taken up by the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan. Abdul Basit, one of the ‘missing persons’, was produced before the Supreme Court in August 2007 only when the Court threatened to imprison the Director General of the Federal Investigation Agency (FIA) for contempt of court. He had been in the custody of Military Intelligence for four years. The Chairman of the Senate Human Rights Committee, Mr S.M. Zafar, interviewed by the authors on 29 November 2007, confirmed that the Committee is also investigating missing persons. ‘Terrorism in the Grip of Justice’ produced by Al-Iraqiya television, January 2005. Author’s interview with Commandant of the Frontier Constabulary, Malik Naveed Khan, 21 January 2008. Author’s interview with a former militant, Rawalpindi, December 2005.

15 Conclusions 1 See Terrence Henry: ‘Get Out of Jihad Free’. Atlantic Monthly, June 2007 (accessed 6 August 2008). 2 J. Horgan (forthcoming) Walking Away from Terrorism: Accounts of Disengagement from Radical and Extremist Movements (London: Routledge, 2009). 3 As discussed in chapter 2, you don’t have to be ‘hard-core’ to engage in terrorist activity. There are a number of roles and degrees of involvement in terrorism.

298 4

5 6

7

Notes

It has been claimed that the legal framework which helped the Italian state to defeat the left-wing terrorist underground in the 1980s and inflict great losses on the Italian Mafia was to some extent gradually corrupted by false and selfserving testimonies by ‘repentant’ mafia informers. For a discussion, see A.G. Palermo, ‘Backlash threatens to silence informers’, The Independent (London), 2 May 1997, available at (accessed 6 August 2008). For a further detailed exploration and analysis, see Horgan (forthcoming: see note 2). See P. Bergen and P. Cruickshank (2008). ‘The Unraveling: The jihadist revolt against bin Laden.’ The New Republic, Wednesday 11 June 2008, available at (accessed 6 August 2008). (accessed 6 August 2008).

Index

Please note that many Islamic references are filed under ‘al’ abandonment of terrorism see disengagement from terrorism Abbas, Mohammed Nasir Bin 20, 23 Aben-Abyan, Islamic Army 182 Abu Ghraib prison, Iraq 239 Abu Hassan (Zain al-Abidin abu Bakr al-Midhar) 182, 183 Abu Sayyaf, Philippines 64, 206 Adams, Gerry 90, 99, 108 Aden Container Terminal management agreement 183 Adults for Children (NGO) 136 Afghanistan: historical call for jihad 229; Soviet occupation 236 African National Congress (ANC) 59 Aho, J.A. 10 Akidah Rehabilitation Centre, Ulu Yam Baru 207 Al Mukmin 196 al-Ahdal, Mohammed 191 Al-Akbar, Jihad 237 Al-Asghar, Jihad 237 al-Badawi, Jamal 190–1 Algeria: Armed Islamic Group 64; national reconciliation programme 180 al-Hitar, Hamoud (Judge) 181, 185, 186, 187–9, 190, 192 al-Iryani, Abdulkarim 181 al-Mojaddedi, Professor Sibghatullah 177 al-Nafisah, Sheikh Ali 220 al-Nujaymi, Muhammad 222 al-Obaykan, Sheik Abdel Mohsin 221 al-Qadhi, Nasser Ahmed Nasser 185 al-Qaeda: campaign of terror 198;

efforts to combat 255; and ending of terrorist campaigns 49, 50, 53; and individual disengagement 23; and Jemaah Islamiyah 195; and Pakistan 230; and renunciation of violence by jihadi organizations 130; see also Taliban al-Qirbi, Abubaker 189 al-Rahman, Sheikh Omar Abd (blind sheikh) 58, 115 al-Sakinah (tranquillity) campaign, Saudi Arabia 179 al-Salam Farag, Muhammad  Abd 113, 114, 120 al-Sharif, Sayyid Imam 113, 125, 127, 175, 255 al-Sofee, Nabil 192 al-Ulaymi, Rashad Muhammad 189 Alunni, Corrado 66 al-wala wal bara (loyalty and nonloyalty) 195 al-Zawahiri, Ayman 113, 125, 128, 131 al-Zindani, Sheikh Abd al-Majid 191 al-Zumar, Tariq 125 amir (spiritual leader) 195 amnesty, programmes involving 4–5, 176, 246 Anani, Zak 19 ANC (African National Congress) 59 ANP (Awami National Party), Pakistan 224 anti-terrorist coactive measures 94–8 ANV (Acción Nacionalista Vasca) 96 apathy 61 Arab Afghans 182 Armed Islamic Group of Algeria 64

300

Index

Art, Robert 61 Asahara, Shoko 57 Asinara Prison 78 Association of Muslim Scholars (PERGUS), Singapore 202 AUC (Autodefensas Unidas de Colombia) 154, 155, 156, 157, 159, 163 Aum Shinriko (Aleph) 56, 57 Awami National Party (ANP), Pakistan 224 Aziz, Nik Adli Nik 208 Baader-Meinhof Gang 58; see also Red Army Faction (RAF) Ba
asyir, Abu Bakar 23, 196, 199, 201 Badawi, Abdullah Ahmad 207 badla (revenge) 230 Bafana, Faiz bin Abu Bakar 204 bai
ah (oath of allegiance) 195 Bakr al-Midhar, Zain al-Abidin abu (Abu Hassan) 182, 183 Bali bombing (2002) 20, 23, 198, 199, 200 Bangladesh, deradicalization and rehabilitation programmes 180 Barnes, Harry 104 Bartoli, Andrea 104 Basque Country, Spain: conflict resolution processes, application to 103; ‘depuration of the census’ 103; peace process 102, 104, 105, 108; Statute of Autonomy (1979) 97, 98, 100; see also ETA (Euzkadi ta Askatasuna); Spain Batasuna (ETA’s political wing) 94, 102, 108, 109, 112 battle of ideas, Pakistan 231, 236–9 Begin, Menachem 59 Belfast Agreement see Good Friday Agreement (1998) Berufsverbot (professional disqualification against extremists) 39 BfV (Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution), Germany 141, 144–6; see Bundesverfassungsschutz Bhutto, Benazir 235 bin Abas, Mohamed Nasir 196, 198, 199, 255 bin Abu Bakar Bafana, Faiz 204 bin Laden, Osama 50, 128 Bjørgo, Tore 6

Blair, Tony 107 Bloomfield, Sir Kenneth 90 bounded and unbounded groups, distinguished 30 BR (Brigate Rosse) see Red Brigades (RB), Italian BRÅ (Swedish Council for Crime Prevention) 139 Bradley, Denis 91 brainwashing 8 Brigata Lo Muscio 66 Buesa, Fernando 106, 112 Bundesverfassungsschutz, disengagement programme for right-wing extremists 144–6; see BfV and Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution Buonavita, Alredo 70, 77 burn-out 38, 80–1 Care Rehabilitation Centre, Saudi Arabia 221 Cartoon Crisis (2006), Denmark 230 Castaño brothers (Fidel, Carlos and Vicente) 154 Castro, Jorge 158 CERAC (Colombian think tank) 158 Chechnya: Russian counter-terrorism campaign in 63; terrorist groups, loss of local support for 61 Children of God 8 Civil Rights movement 107 Cold War, and Pakistan 225–6 Cole, bombing of see USS Cole (US Navy destroyer), suicide bombing (2000) collective disengagement: 4, 49–131, 152–169, 235–6, 248 Collins, Eamon 22 Colombia 13; civil war (1940s) 153; demobilization see demobilization, in Colombia; environment and networks 166–8; guerrilla groups 153; ‘Justice and Peace Law’ 155, 156; Law 782 of 2002, 155, 157; and narco-terrorist groups 64; National Security Policy 158; Rehabilitation Program 154; Revolutionary Armed Forces (FARC) 64, 152, 153, 154, 155, 157, 160 Committee for Religious Dialogue, Yemen 181–192; see Yemen Committee for Dialogue Communist Party of Nepal-Maoists 64 Conde-Pumpido, Cándido 111

Index Consultative Group on the Past, Northern Ireland 91 Cordes, Bonnie 17–18 Counselling Programme, Saudi Arabia: Advisory Committee 216, 217, 218, 219, 221, 222; background 212–15; basis of 215–17; initial genesis 215; Media Subcommittee 220; organization 217–20; process of counselling 220–2; Psychological and Social Subcommittee 218, 219; reactions and responses to 222–3; Religious Subcommittee 217, 219; Security Subcommittee 219; societal origins 213–14; success rate 222; see also Saudi Arabia counter-terrorism 245; background to disengagement 1–2; challenges in promoting disengagement in 246–7; in Chechnya 63; comparative cases 54–5; comprehensive strategy, search for 180; disengagement as ‘new weapon’ 254; facilitating disengagement as core element 247–9; and killing of leader 58; psychological operations 24; role, overemphasis of 52; in Spain 94 COVITE (Group of Victims of Terrorism in the Basque Country) 102 Crenshaw, M. 6 criminal lifestyles, desistance from 8 CROs (referral and orientation centers), Colombia 160, 164, 165 cults, disengagement from 8–9 Curcio, Anna 74 da wa (propagation of Islam in Mecca) 117 DDR (Disarmament, Demobilization and Reintegration) 1 Debray, Regis 25 Decker, S. 7 defectors, terrorist groups 248–9 demobilization, in Colombia 152–69; approach and process 157–8; intention to demobilize 158–60 Denmark: Cartoon Crisis (2006) 230; ‘Green Jackets’ 45 Department of Malaysian Islamic Development (JAKIM) 179 deradicalization: cognitive and behavioural aspects 3; conceptual clarity, lack of 3; and disengagement process 19; in Netherlands 180; or

301

disengagement 27–8; and rehabilitation programmes see deradicalization and rehabilitation programmes; in United Kingdom 180; see also disengagement from terrorism deradicalization and rehabilitation programmes 170–80; Algeria 180; amnesty, programmes involving 4–5, 176; Bangladesh 180; coordinated 172; counter-terrorism strategy, search for 180; examples 175–9; government-backed policies 178; Indonesia 178; Malaysia 179; Netherlands, deradicalization programmes in 180; Philippines 177–8; Saudi Arabia 179; Singapore 178–9; Tajikistan, Tajik SecularIslamic dialogue project 175, 178; Takhim-e-Solh (Strengthening the Peace - PTS) 176–7; UK, deradicalization programmes in 180; Yemen Committee for Dialogue 13, 177, 181–9 Detachment 88 leaders, Indonesia 200 detention orders (DOs) 206 Di Rocco, Ennio 79 Dickson, Brice 90 Dingley, James 18 disaffiliation from religious cults 9 Disarmament, Demobilization and Reintegration (DDR) 1 disengagement from terrorism: antiterrorist coactive measures 94–8; background 1–13; challenges in promoting 246–7; collective, strategy 235–6; and counter-terrorism policies 247–9; critical distinctions 3–5; dearth of research 2; existing knowledge 5–7; factors inhibiting 40–2; in Germany see Germany, disengagement programmes in; individual see individual disengagement; methods 42–4; or deradicalization 27–8; phase of on exiting right-wing extremist groups 139–40; physical 24–7; programmes see disengagement programmes; psychological 21–4; reasons for 20–1; religious movements 8–9; see also terrorist campaigns, ending of disengagement programmes: benefits to those entering 252–3; lessons learned 249–51; as ‘new weapon’ in counter-

302

Index

terrorism 254; objectives and expectations 250–1; participants, offering in exchange 253; running of 252; target groups 251–3 dissosicazione, law on 70, 71, 80 Document for Islamic Action (Mithaq al-  amal al-Islami) 119 DOs (detention orders) 206 drifting, motivation for joining racist groups 32 Durand line, Pakistan 228 Durkan, Mark 91 Eames, Lord 91 Ebaugh, H.R.F. 21 Egypt: deradicalization and rehabilitation programmes 180; Luxor massacre (1997) 121, 124; renunciation of violence by jihadi organizations 12, 113–31; revision process 121–31; rise and development of jihadi groups 113–15; Sharm al-Sheikh peace conference (1996) 123; see also Gama  a al-Islamiya; Jihad Ejercito Popular de Liberacion (EPL) 60 El País (newspaper) 108 ELN (Ejercito de Liberación Nacional), Colombia 153 Enders, Walter 53 enemies (former), loss of protection against 41 EPL (Ejercito Popular de Liberacion) 60 Ermua Forum 102 ETA (Euzkadi ta Askatasuna) 12, 88–9, 109, 112; declining popularity 62, 95; Madrid bombing (2006) 92, 94; objectives 93; and ‘peace process’ 104; truces 97, 101; violence 89, 100; see also Basque Country, Spain; IRA (Irish Republican Party); Spain ETZEL (Irgun Zvai Le
umi) 59 Exit, Voice and Loyalty: Responses to Decline in Firms, Organizations and States (Hirschman) 6 Exit projects (right-wing extremist groups) 47; Motala 138; NGO programmes 150, 151; Norway 136–8, 150; Sweden 138–41, 150 exit strategies: breaking racist group, without breaking with ideology 43; public break 42–3; quiet and gradual withdrawal 43–4 Exit in Norway 136–8 Exit in Sweden 138–41

EXIT-Deutschland (NGO programme) 142, 145, 146, 151 extreme right groups 12; bounded and unbounded groups 30; communitybuilding and bridge-burning, on disengagement 33–6; disengagement from 30–48; disillusionment with 37; entry 31–3; Exit projects 135–51; in Israel 123; loss of grip on members 44–6; methods of disengagement see exit strategies; positive characteristics 40; reasons for considering leaving 36–9 Fadl, Dr 113, 125, 127, 175, 255 families, as motivation for leaving a racist or nationalist group 40 Fangen, Katrine 10, 35 Faranda, Adriana 6, 78 FARC (Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia) 64, 152, 153, 154, 155, 157, 160 FATA (Federally Administered Tribal Areas), Pakistan 224, 226, 227–8, 242; push and pull factors 229–32; sectarian struggle 228–9 FCC (Formazioni comuniste combattenti) 66 Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution (Germany) see Bundesverfassungsschutz and BfV Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA), Pakistan see FATA (Federally Administered Tribal Areas), Pakistan Fillieule, Olivier 67, 79 FitzGerald, Garret 99 Franco, General Francisco 88 Front Line (Prima Linea) 66, 67, 70, 71, 81 Fujimori government, in Peru 61 Gallagher, Aiden 90 Gallagher, Michael 90 Gallinari 71, 79 Gama  a al-Islamiya 113, 248; Consultative Council 124, 130; and Islamist movements 116–18; nature of violence practised by 118–19; old system of thought 119–21; Revised Concepts series 129, 130; revision process 121–31; rise and development 114, 115 Gandhi, Indira 62 gangs, disengagement from 7–8

Index Garfinkel, R. 21 Garzón, Baltasar 102–3 Germany, disengagement programmes in 12, 141–50; Bundesverfassungsschutz 144–6; EXIT-Deutschland (NGO programme) 142, 145, 146, 151; Hessian disengagement programme 148–50; North Rhine-Westphalian programme 146–7 Gesture for Peace (Coordinadora Gesto por la Paz) 102 globalization 52 Good Friday Agreement (1998) 4, 60, 91 ‘Green Jackets’, Danish 45 Guerrigilia rossa 66 Gurr, Ted Robert 54 Guzman (Manuel Ruben Abimael Guzman Reynoso) 57, 61 Habali (Riduan Isamudin) 210 Hain, Peter 96 Halliday, Fred 99 Hamas (Palestinian Islamic Resistance) 60, 123 Hamza, Abu 23 Hassan, Ustaz Muhammad Haniff 202 Hasselbach, Ingo 142 Hernandez, Hernan 164 Hessian disengagement programme (IKARus) 148–50 HET (Historical Enquiries Team) 91 hijrah (migration) 195 Hindu Thugs 52 Hirschman, Albert 6, 72 hisba, institution of 114 Historical Enquiries Team (HET) 91 Horgan, J. 6 Huizinga, D. 7–8 Hume, John 91, 107 Ibarretxe, Juan José 104 ideology and politics: loss of faith in 36–7; motivation for joining racist groups 32; retaining ideology while breaking with racist group 43 Ignatieff, Michael 103–4 IKARus (Hessian disengagement programme) 148–50 Imron, Ali 199 India, Sikh separatism in 62 individual disengagement 17–29, 248; collective distinguished 4; multi-level model 12, 18; or deradicalization

303

27–8; physical 24–7; psychological 21–4; reasons for disengaging from terrorism 20–1 Indonesia: Bali bombing (2002) 20, 23, 198, 199, 200; Detachment 88 leaders 200; government-backed deradicalization policies 178; Jemaah Islamiyah detainees, rehabilitation 198–201; rehabilitation programmes 197; Ulema Council 184–5, 199 INP (Indonesian National Police) 199 Internal Security Acts (ISAs), Malaysia and Singapore 179, 193, 201, 203, 206 Internal Security Department (ISD), Singapore 202 International Centre for Political Violence and Terrorism Research at Nanyang Technological University 204–5 Internet, and global terrorism 52 IRA (Irish Republican Party) 12, 88–9; ceasefire (1994) 98; experiences of 22–3; and Good Friday Agreement 4, 60, 91; and physical disengagement 25, 26; and psychological disengagement 23–4; Sinn Fein 20, 97, 98, 99, 107; truces 97; victims 90–2; see also ETA (Euzkadi ta Askatasuna); Northern Ireland; Real Irish Republic Army (RIRA) Irgun Zvai Le
umi (National Military Organization) 59 Isamudin, Riduan (Hambali) 210 ISAs (Internal Security Act), Malaysia and Singapore 179, 193, 201, 203, 206 ISD (Internal Security Department), Singapore 202 Islamic Salvation Front 64 Islamist movements: Gama  a al-Islamiya and jihad 116–18; groups 116 Israel, rise of right-wing parties in 123 Italy: dissosicazione, law on 70, 80; Law 304/1982 70; leaving underground organizations see underground organizations, Italy; Red Brigades see Red Brigades (RB), Italian; rehabilitation programmes 5; ‘repentance programme’ 5 JAKIM (Department of Malaysian Islamic Development) 179 Jamieson, A. 6 jannah (paradise) 195

304

Index

Jemaah Islamiyah 13; ideology, theology and organization 195–7; and Indonesia 20, 198–201; and Malaysia 205–8; rehabilitation of detainees 193–211; and Singapore 201–5; strategic objectives 23; theological dialogue model 197–8; White Paper 203 JI see Jemaah Islamiyah Jihad: assessment and effectiveness 189–92; Jihad Organization, proposals for 114; and Islamist movements 116–18; nature of violence practised by 118–19, 248; old system of thought 119–21; revision process 121–31; rise and development 113, 114–15 jirgas (councils of elders), Pakistan 227, 235 Johnsen, Gregory 183 Jones, Sidney 199 justice and rule of law 246 Karnavian, Tito 199 Karzai, President Hamid 176 Kashmir, ‘national project’ of jihad 229 Kashmiri separatist groups 64 Khmer Rouge 64 King David Hotel, bombing of (1946) 59 Klandermans, Bert 73 Klein, M.W. 7 ‘Kurt Waldheim syndrome’ 44 La Violencia (civil war, Colombia) 153 Lal Masjid episode (2007), Pakistan 234 Laqueur, Walter 59 Latin America, peace processes 105 Lauritsen, J. 7 leaders of terrorist groups, capture or killing of 55–8 Likud, Israel 123 Limburg (tanker), bombing of (2002) 183 Loeber, R. 7–8 London bombings (2005) 3 Ma alim fi-l-tariq (Signposts on the Road) 119 Mackin, Des 20 Madrid bombing (2006) 92, 94 Major, John 109 Malaysia: arrests 206; deradicalization and rehabilitation programmes 179;

detention orders 206; Internal Security Acts 179, 193, 206; Jemaah Islamiyah detainees, rehabilitation 205–8; political parties 208; rehabilitation programmes 197; restrictive orders 206; see also Singapore Mallon, Seamus 107–8 Mandela, Nelson 59 Mandelson, Peter 107 martyrs 232 Marulanda, Manuel 154 Masoosai, Revathi 207 M
Bai, General Ansyaad 193 McDougall, Bertha 90 McGuinness, Martin 108 McKenna, Kevin 23, 24 MCR (Movimento comunista rivoluzionario) 66 Medellín, Colombia 157, 161, 162, 165, 167, 168–9 mediators and peacemakers 103–9 Mehsud, Baitullah 233 methods of disengagement with extremist group see exit strategies Meyer, Roelf 104 Military Technical Group, Egypt 113 mission-driven terrorist groups 52 MNLF (Muslim National Liberation Front) 177–8 ‘Moonies’ (Unification Church) 8 Moro trial (1982), Italy 72 Morucci, Valerio 73, 78–9, 83 Muhammad, Prophet 116, 117, 230 MUI (Ulema Council of Indonesia) 184–5, 199 MUIS (Islamic Religious Council) 202 Musharraf, President Pervez 227, 230 Muslim National Liberation Front (MNLF) 177–8 Na  im, Nabil 125 NAP (Nuclei armati proletari) 66 Nasir, bin Abas Mohamed 196, 198, 199, 255 Nasiri, Omar 23 Nasjonalt Folkeparti (National People’s Party) 37, 45 National Independent Commission for Peace and Reconciliation 177 National People’s Party (Nasjonalt Folkeparti) see Nasjonalt Folkeparti negative social sanctions 36, 40, 41

Index neo-Nazi groups 10, 12, 43, 137 Netanyahu, Benjamin 123 Netherlands: deradicalization programmes 180; peace movement 76 NGO (non-governmental organizations): Adults for Children 136; Exit projects (right-wing extremist groups) 150, 151; EXIT-Deutschland programme 145, 146, 151, 152; running of disengagement programmes 252 Nidal, Abu 63 9/11 terrorist attacks 19, 49, 53, 170; search for new Jihad following 226–7; see also World Trade Center, bombing of (1993) Nordic National Party (Nordiska Rikspartiet) 45 Nordiska Rikspartiet (Nordic National Party) 45 Norsk Front (Norwegian Front) 37, 45 North Rhine-Westphalian disengagement programme 146–7 North West Frontier Province (NWFP), Pakistan 224, 228, 234–5 Northern Ireland 88–112; Good Friday Agreement (1998) 4, 60, 91; peace process 17, 90–2, 98, 110; propaganda 100; Provisional Irish Republican Army 57, 60, 90; Real Irish Republic Army (RIRA) 56, 57, 62, 90; representations and misrepresentations of model 96–8; searching for model in 92–4; see also IRA (Irish Republican Party) Norway: Exit project 12, 136–8, 150; job losses due to unpopular opinions 39–40; Valkyria (nationalist girls’ group) 45 Norwegian Front (Norsk Front) see Nordiska Rikspartiet NRP (Nordic National Party) (Nordiska Rikspartiet) see Nordic National Party Nuclei 66 NWFP (North West Frontier Province), Pakistan 224, 228, 234–5 OAS (Organization of American States) 156, 159 O’Callaghan, Sean 23–4 Oklahoma City bombing (1995) 58 O’Loan, Nuala 91 Operation Restore Hope 182 Orde, Hugh 91

305

Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) 178 Organization of American States (OAS) 156, 159 OSCE see Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe O’Toole, Fintan 110 PAC (Proletari armati per il comunismo) 66 Pact for Freedom and against Terrorism (2000), Spain 93, 94, 95 Pagazautundua, Maite 111 Paisley, Ian 108 Pakistan 13, 224–42; battle of ideas 231, 236–9; Cold War legacy 225–6; collective disengagement, strategy 235–6; Durand line 228; Federally Administered Tribal Areas 227–8; Frontier Crimes Regulation Act (1901) 227; ‘Islamization’ of 226; new Jihad, search for (post 9/11) 226–7; peace agreements 235–6; seeds of disengagement 232–4; strategy, elements of 240–2; Sunni sectarian groups 229; teenage soldiers 234–5 Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) 60 Pan-Malaysian Islamic Party (PAS) 208 Paramilitary in Colombia, see AUC parental network groups 136–7 Partito Guerriglia 71 PAS (Pan-Malaysian Islamic Party) 208 peace process: Northern Ireland 17, 90–2, 98, 110; Spain 92–4, 102, 104, 105, 108; victims and victimizers 99–103 Peci, Patrizio 22 PERGUS (Association of Muslim Scholars), Singapore 202 Permanent Group of International Advisors on the Peace Process 104 persistent activists 81 Peru: execution of peasant leaders in 57; Fujimori government in 61 PFLP-GC (Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine-General Command) 60, 62, 63 Philippines 177–8; Abu Sayyaf 64, 206 physical disengagement 24–7 Pizzorno 84 PL (Prima Linea) 66, 67, 70, 71, 81

306

Index

PLO (Palestine Liberation Organization) 60 Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI) 91 Popular Party, Spain 93 Prima Linea (PL) 66, 67, 70, 71, 81 protection, motivation for joining racist groups 32 Provisional Irish Republican Army 57, 60, 90; see also IRA provocation, motivation for joining racist groups 32 PSNI (Police Service of Northern Ireland) 91 PST (Norwegian Police Security Service) 137 The Psychology of Terrorism (Horgan) 6 psychological disengagement 21–4 PTS (Strengthening the Peace) (Takhim-e-Solh) 176–7 pull factors, as reasons for considering leaving a group 39–40 PUPJI (General Guidebook for the Struggle of Jemaah Islamiyah) 195 push factors, as reasons for considering leaving a group 36–9 Quilliam Foundation (think tank) 255 Qur
an 116, 185, 190, 214 Qutb, Sayyid 117, 119, 120 racist movements, disengagement from 9–10 radicalization, violent 248 RAF (Red Army Faction) 6, 69; see also Baader-Meinhof gang RAG (National Action Group) 45 Rahman, Muhammad Iqbal 201 Rapoport, David 52, 54 Razak, Najib 208 RB (Red Brigades) see Red Brigades (RB), Italian RCA (Reparti comunisti armati) 66 Real Irish Republic Army (RIRA) 56, 57, 62, 90 Rebibbia, Roman Prison 71 recidivism, rates of 210 Red Army Faction (RAF) 6, 69 Red Army, Japanese 58 Red Brigades (RB), Italian 5, 6, 58; dissolution of founders 71; foundations of 81, 82; organizational fractionalization 66–7, 77–8; and peace movement 74–5

rehabilitation of terrorists 99–101; amnesty, programmes involving 4–5, 176; deradicalization and rehabilitation programmes 170–80; religious programmes, in Singapore 178–9 Reich, Walter 19 Reincorporation Program, Colombia 5, 152, 153, 160–6; benefit allocation, organizational challenge of 161–3; comprehensive approach to reincorporation 164–6; Control and Monitoring Report 158; and demobilization 157; structural problems 163–4; see also Colombia Reiss, Mitchell 107 religious movements, disengagement from 8–9 Religious Rehabilitation Group (RRG), Singapore 201, 202, 205 religious rehabilitation programmes, Singapore 178–9 ‘repentance programme’, Italy 5 restrictive orders (ROs) 206 revision process (Egypt) 121–31; content and significance 122; context, causes and motives 122–6; new theoretical foundation 126–8; obstacles in path of 128–31 Rexroth, Wilfried 148 Reynolds, Albert 104 Reynoso, Manuel Ruben Abimael Guzman 57, 61 Richardson, Louise 53, 61 right-wing movements, disengagement from 9–10; in Germany 141–50; see also extreme right groups, disengagement from Riis-Knudsen, Povl Heinrich 38 Riksaktionsgruppe (National Action group) 45 RIRA (Real Irish Republican Army) 56, 57, 62, 90 Risalat al-iman (Siriya) 120 ROs (restrictive orders) 206 Rossa, Guido 73–4 Rote Armee Faktion (Red Army Faction) 69; see also RAF and Baader-Meinhof gang RRG (Religious Rehabilitation Group), Singapore 201, 202, 205 Sadat, President Anwar 113, 114, 129 Saleem, Kamal 19

Index Saleh, President Ali Abdullah 182, 184, 185, 187, 189 San Vittore Prison, Milan 71 Sandler, Todd 53 Saudi Arabia: ‘Centennial Fund’ 214; deradicalization 179; extremist reeducation and rehabitation 13, 198, 212–23 Second of June Movement 58 securocrats 98 Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path) 56, 57, 61 September 11 terrorist attacks see 9/11 terrorist attacks sharia-ization 207 Sharm al-Sheikh peace conference (1996) 123 Shifting Involvements (Hirschman) 72 Shining Path (Sendero Luminoso) 56, 57, 61 Shoebat, Walid 19–20 Singapore: arrests 206; Association of Muslim Scholars 202; Internal Security Acts 179, 193, 201, 203; Jemaah Islamiyah detainees, rehabilitation 201–5; rehabilitation programmes 197; religious rehabilitation programmes 178–9, 202; see also Malaysia Sinn Fein 20, 97, 98, 99, 107 Sirriya, Salih 120 Socialist Party, Spain 93 Soldati, Giorgio 78 South Africa, Truth and Reconciliation Commission 247 South East Asia: rehabilitation of Jemaah Islamiyah detainees 193–211; see also Indonesia; Malaysia; Singapore Spain 88–112; Basque nationalism 97; conflict resolution processes 103–5; Pact for Freedom and against Terrorism (2000) 93, 94, 95; peace process 92–4, 102, 104, 105, 108; political parties 93, 95, 96; Resolution on the Fight against Terrorism (2005) 95; terrorism in see ETA (Euzkadi ta Askatasuna) Sprinzak, Ehud 53 status: loss of 38; motivation for joining racist groups 32–3 substitute families, seeking as motivation for joining racist groups 32 subversion, and terrorism 21

307

Sufaat, Yazid 207 Sufism 125 Sweden, Exit project 12, 138–41, 150; and Germany 143; phase of disengagement 139–40; phase of establishment 140; phase of motivation 139; phase of reflection 140; phase of stabilization 140–1 Swedish Council for Crime Prevention (BRÅ) 139 Symbionese Liberation Army 58 Tajik Secular-Islamic dialogue project, Tajikistan 175, 178 Tajikistan, Tajik Secular-Islamic dialogue project 175, 178 takfir (labelling other Muslims) 195 Takhim-e-Solh (Strengthening the Peace - PTS) 176–7 Taliban 176, 227, 230, 233; demonstration of power 242; Wahabbi/Salafi ideology 238 Tamil Tigers 62 teenage soldiers, Pakistan 234–5 terrorism: defeating as precondition for renouncing violence 94–6; disengagement from see disengagement from terrorism; global 52; origins, persistence of 51; post 9/11 changes 171; reasons for involvement in 3; and subversion 21; in Yemen 182–3; see also terrorist campaigns, ending of; terrorists terrorist campaigns, ending of 12, 49–65; capture or killing of leader 55–8; cause achieved 59; comparative counter-terrorism cases 54–5; cycles, stages, waves and phases 53–4; diminishing popular support 61–3; inability to pass cause to next generation 58–9; links between beginnings and endings 51–3; military force and repression of terrorist groups 63–4; negotiations or transition to legitimate political process 60–1; organizational dynamics 51–2; previous research 50–5; splintering of groups 60; transition to other modus operandi 64; see also disengagement from terrorism terrorists, rehabilitating 99–101 Third International models 74 Thornberry, T.P. 7–8

308

Index

thrill seeking, motivation for joining racist groups 32 Top, Noordin Mohamad 210 Trimble, David 96, 107 UCC (Unità comuniste combattenti) 66 Ulema Council of Indonesia (MUI) 184–5, 199 underground organizations, Italy 12; analytical levels (macro, meso and micro), explanations at 67, 84; biographical availability 79–80; burnout 80–1; changes over time 76–7; degeneration of personal underground organizations, Italy – Contd. relationships 77–9; environmental opportunities 69–75, 85; external support and departure 72–5; individual and society 79–84; leaving 66–85; organizations/organizational implosion 66, 75–7; repression, facilitation and departure 69–72; social relationships and departure processes 81–4 United Kingdom: deradicalization programmes 180; imprisonment on charges of incitement 19 United States, peace movement, research on 81 Uribe, President Alvaro 155, 158 USS Cole (US Navy destroyer), suicide bombing (2000) 183, 184, 189 Valkyria (Norwegian nationalist girls’ group) 45 victims of terrorism: as ‘enemies’ of peace versus ‘peace-seeking’ terrorist 105–9; marginalizing 101–5; role in peace process 90–2; and victimizers 99–103

Vigil, J.D. 7 Vigrid (racist organization) 137 violence: defeating terrorism as precondition for renouncing 94–6; ETA 89, 100; Gama  a al-Islamiya and jihad, practised by 118–19, 248; motivation for joining racist groups 32; religious movements 117; renunciation by jihadi organizations 12, 113–31; see also terrorism Wafaqul Madaris (federation of religious schools) 233 Wagner, Bernd 142, 143 Wan Min Wan Mat 208 Wasmund, K. 6 Weather Underground Organization/ Weathermen 58 Weinberg, Leonard 53 Weschler, Joanna 104 White Power movement 138, 139 World Trade Center, bombing of (1993) 58 World Union of National Socialists (WUNS) 38 Wright, S.A. 6, 9 WUNS (World Union of National Socialists) 38 Yemen, overview of jihadism 81–4 Yemen Committee for Dialogue 13, 177, 184–9, 192, 246; Ethics of Dialogue 186–7 youth gangs, disengagement from 7–8 Zapatero, José Luis Rodriquez 92, 93 Zia-ul-Haq, Pakistani President 226 Zionist Occupation Government 135 Zorn 88, 37 Zubía, José 111–12