Radicalisation: Examining a Concept, its Use and Abuse

By Paul Hedges

Counter Terrorist Trends and Analyses

Volume 9, Issue 10 |  October  2017

Synopsis 

This article explores some recent literature on radicalisation and its policy implications. In particular, it questions the common use and understanding of radicalisation, and focuses on the diverging arguments of two French scholars, Giles Kepel and Olivier Roy about pathways to radicalisation. The article also examines the link between radicalisation and “Militant Neo-Islamist Jihadism”, and makes recommendations on dealing with the phenomenon discussed. 

 Introduction

 As a concept, a lot can be said about radicalisation. Focusing on an academic debate about pathways to radicalisation between two French scholars, Giles Kepel and Olivier Roy, this article offers an overview of some key literature on radicalisation from 2015 to the present. It also outlines their respective positions and arguments, and offers some additional academic insights to take the debate further.The article also explores and clarifies key issues associated with the concept of radicalisation. First, does the term “radicalisation” refer to anything meaningful at all?  This paper contends that overall the term works as a tool to obfuscate rather than to clarify. But since the term is widely used in academic literature, this paper employs it as shorthand for multifaceted ways in which worldviews of particular individuals, groups, and communities may become extreme, militant, or violent. 

Second, there is neither a commonly accepted personality profile nor a linear pathway to radicalisation. In other words, the landscape and trajectory of terrorism in terms of recruitment and evolution are both evolving and fluid. A third issue is the distinctiveness associated with terms such as Islamist or Jihadist terrorism and what we may or may not signify by this, particularly in the present context because they relate to wider Islamic and Salafi thought.  These issues are significant for policy-related work and analysis because if radicalisation is misunderstood (or as commonly understood), it can lead to misapprehensions of how to approach and deal with the issue. As such, there is a clear practitioner and policy dynamic that runs through this article and will be especially developed in the conclusion.

What is (Wrong with) Radicalisation?

Arguably, the first step to examine and understand radicalisation is to understand that radicalisation is not something in itself. People do adopt worldviews, ideologies, and practices which can be considered radical, and some of them go on to commit acts of terror. However, I would argue that there is no distinct practice and special realm of thought that can be labelled as radicalisation.  In sociological terms, it is all about socialisation. Individuals behave and exist in the world by the normal socialisation processes. That is to say, people learn from their friends, contacts, people they respect, family, or whoever it may be, about what it  means to be a human being. In other words, how to live, interact with others, what code of life and forms of practice they should adopt. As such we do not see some distinct process called radicalisation, but socialisation into worldviews and behaviours that we label as „radical‟. However, as discussed below, it is not a straight pathway from such socialisation into being radicalised.

Instead of acting outside their worldview through indoctrination and brainwashing, radicalisation is about active involvement in a new worldview. Now, some people referred to as radicalised have become socialised into worldviews or ideologies which are considered radical. However, many people who are not regarded as being radicalised may hold views which are regarded as radical and may well see violence as a way to get to their ends. Criminal gangs, for instance, will employ violence. However, when the term radicalisation is used today it typically refers to pathways into terrorism.  Another issue with the term is what it implies: does it refer solely to people who turn violent or use terrorist acts, or a wider base of sympathisers with identical worldview, or with specific groups, such as Al-Qaeda or the socalled „Islamic State‟ (IS)? Are all of these people radicals or radicalised?6 Without more careful delineation about what these terms mean and how they should be deployed, their loose usage will turn into witch-hunting, chasing some mythic and imagined process or worldview. This point will be explored further below.

A second key misconception is the idea that there is only one, or primarily one, major factor in pathways towards radicalisation or more appropriately, violent extremism or terrorism. Notably, whether it is the far-right, far-left, „jihadist‟ or other forms, some similarities are identifiable which will be discussed below. Yet, despite a move from the now largely discredited psychological profiling, to looking at pathways into terrorism, one single pathway does not simply exist. Roy has summed up some common factors in relation to jihadist  radicalism, but they are far from definitive nor are they useful profiling factors. Taking Roys list and some key findings from other surveys, we can identify “typical” elements often noted in terrorism studies. For instance, in France, many are from second-generation immigrant families. The families are often dysfunctional in some way (if compared to what is often represented as the normative nuclear family), that is to say there is abuse, divorce, or single-parent situations.

 An involvement in petty crime, violence, and gangs is commonplace. Many also come from somewhat disadvantaged groups or marginal social contexts, often being under-employed.  There is also a sense of disenfranchisement from society, where although integrated in many ways, one does not quite fit in. Coupled with this is a sense of grievance at injustices, often by one‟s own government or the West more broadly, concerning the treatment of Muslims. Such individuals are often converts or those who have not taken their religion seriously but have some form of being “born again.”

The problem with the above-mentioned analysis is twofold. On the one hand, statistically speaking, these traits are found typically in perhaps half of samples or surveys. Sometimes it can be even more, around sixty or seventy percent, but this can vary from sample to sample. As such, they are the most common traits, but far from definitive or defining of all forms of radicalisation. For instance, a good proportion come from well off and economically privileged situations. Also, as noted, much of this literature is based in the West and so may not reflect a global dynamic.

 On the other hand, the issues raised do not provide a clear and well defined group that can be pinpointed. Being economically disadvantaged, second generation immigrants (even of specific groups, for instance South Asians in the UK or from the Maghreb in France) with a petty criminal or gang background will sweep up vast numbers of people. Again, statistically very few of these will go on to join terror groups or engage in acts of terrorism. Meanwhile, there is good evidence that using surveillance over vast groups or castigating them as potential terrorists is almost certainly counterproductive.

Kepel vs Roy: Ideology or the Radical Milieu

Recently, a distinct academic debate on the conceptualisation of radicalisation has emerged between the approach of Giles Kepel and Olivier Roy.  Adopting a historical-analytical approach, Kepel traces the development of the Salafist thought that has come to define itself in contradistinction to the West. Particularly focusing on a work by Al-Suri in 2005, The Global Islamic Resistance Call, Kepel argues for a new (third) wave of „jihadism‟ that focuses on small scale attacks in the West. For him, the purist Salafist doctrine, especially as exemplified in the concept of al wala‟ wal bara‟a (loyalty and disavowal) whereby Muslims should not befriend nonMuslims and should be essentially hostile to them, leads inexorably to the confrontation of Islam and the West. When coupled with the discontent of the French banlieues (economically poor and marginalised suburbs), Kepel sees a perfect storm brewing as Muslim youths ghettoised in these regions react to a history of oppression and inability to inculturate. In short, Kepel‟s argument is that Salafi ideology, economic disparity and social prejudices are the root causes of today‟s situation of „jihad‟ and terror in the West.

By way of contrast, Roy under the catchphrase “the Islamicisation of radicalism” suggests that the specific Salafi thought has not led to present situation.  He argues that many modern „jihadist‟ terrorists are not in tune with Salafism. For Roy, the present trajectory of youth discontent in the West can be traced to roots in anarchist terror in the nineteenth century, which is exemplified in a youth culture of nihilism and aggression. He sees this trend in incidents such as the Columbine school shooting in the US in 1999 in which 13 people died.

Certainly, he does not let Islam off the hook, and he is very clear that there is a particular form of Islamist „jihadism‟ which underpins the culture that supports this violence and radicalisation. However, he does not see the link from religion to radicalisation per se, nor especially from poverty and deprivation, though as he says these alongside prejudice and intolerance play a role in supporting the perception that allows the worldview to flourish.  In short , the dispute between Kepel and Roy is whether contemporary radicalisation is based in, respectively, on the one hand, an Islamic ideology and perceived persecution and relative deprivation, or on the other, a nihilism and death cult that just happens to find its current manifestation in a particular Islamic worldview. For the purpose of this paper, and with a view to draw the practical lessons from this, the paper will now focus on the two disputes.   

Islam, Salafism, Jihadism

All terrorists are Salafis, but not all Salafis are terrorists, is a well-worn mantra in the literature. Indeed, we often see Salafis termed as quietist, activist, or „jihadist‟, though this is over simplistic. For one thing, the lines between them are not always hard and fast and can be porous. Moreover, Peter Neumann argues that the contemporary Salafis are not like their nineteenth century ancestors. Today, in the West at least, Salafis are likely to be as much influenced by Western culture and American style as images of seventh century Arabia. The modern „Jihadi‟ scene he argues is influenced by IS‟s online productions and previously by Al-Qaeda‟s Yemeni leader Anwar al-Awlaki‟s magazine Inspire, aware of modern production styles and keen to speak to young people in the street. It is about hiphop and “Jihadi cool” as much as traditional Islamic culture.

The academic study of religious traditions is useful in understanding the dispute between Kepel and Roy in a different way, because tradition is always a changing phenomenon. Roy‟s argument that many young „jihadis‟ are not Salafis because they do not lean on strict rules about prayer, piety, and personal decorum seems correct. As he notes, drinking, non-attendance at Friday prayers, and so on is noted in the biographies of various recent terrorists in France, Belgium, and across other parts of the Western world.   However, Neumann seems to suggest that it is not that these people may not be Salafis, but rather that the definition and notion of Salafi are changing. Kepel is correct that the codes of purity, reform, and disavowal of non-Muslims are all features of the thought world of contemporary „jihadism‟ that developed within the Salafist worldview. While Roy is correct that the modern „jihadis‟ do not cite the Salafi sources and figures like al-Suri that Kepel sees as significant in developing the contemporary context, they provide what can be called the cultural milieu of contemporary „jihadism‟.

Indeed, as Nafees Hamid has noted recently the pool of radicalisation is changing. While al-Qaeda would take people to training camps for months or years to ensure ideological purity for recruits, this is much less of a concern for IS. Indeed, today it may well be true that terrorists simply do not come from the Salafist groups if by this we mean the more traditionalist brand, rather recruits are sought from the street and potentially more impressionable younger people. This means that things are changing. As Marc Sageman noted, if we look back across samples over decades, the vast majority of terrorists have no criminal background. However, today, a majority of at least one sample of recent foreign fighters did have either petty or violent criminal backgrounds. Indeed, jail has been noted as a key breeding ground for radicalism where disenfranchised youths may convert and be drawn into the influence of jihadist thinkers.

Considering the above, the contemporary militant landscape can be defined as one of what I will term Militant Neo-Islamist Jihadism. It has evolved from Salafism, but it radically differs from traditional forms of that tradition. Certainly, most Western Muslim converts who make up a significant proportion are simply too ignorant of the religion to know what is or is not Salafism, and indeed again statistics show that nonconverts generally come from a not particularly devout background. 

 Certainly, one recent sample of returned foreign fighters from Syria indicates many did not even know how to pray, let alone anything about doctrinal or creedal intricacies. Many figures are what have been termed “born again” Muslims, often with a strongly Westernised religiosity, by which is meant that it is shorn of cultural form, though as noted, this is strongly influenced by Western cultural forms at least in presentation. As such, Kepel is correct to trace this Salafist heritage, even if he does not note the very different trajectory of some of the most recent trends.

 As Neumann has argued, and is inherent in Roy‟s arguments, there is specific militant „jihadist‟ culture that is fed through Western concepts. In this „jihadist‟ culture, much of the theatrical violence of groups like IS relies on video games, horror movies, and graphic content that are intended to spread fear, and can be seen as linked to images of the cool jihadi look – black gear, Kalashnikov touting, etc. How far the eventual demise of IS as a military power with its own territory will affect this remains to be seen. 

The term Neo-Islamist has been used because, while drawing from jihadist salafi thought, it seems well accepted in the academic literature that the jihadist worldview is entirely divorced from mainstream Islam (though the popular literature still remains all too often stuck in the notion that much terrorism is inspired by reading the Qur‟an), and the quite strict regulations on, for instance, what military jihad means, how it can be conducted, etc. Not to mention the way that respect and toleration for the religious other is built into tradition from the Sunna (tradition) of the Prophet, exemplified in documents like the so-called Medina Charter. We may therefore use the term Militant Neo-Islamist Jihadism or jihadism for short.

Radicals and Contemporary Radicalisation

In a survey in 1968, Hoffman observed that no known active terrorist group had a religious base, but by 1993, twenty percent of terror groups had such a base. This phenomenon has been termed the religious wave in terrorism. The tactics and ideology of contemporary jihadism are linked back to the earliest days of terrorism, building from Carlo Piscane‟s (1818-57) notion of the “propaganda of the deed”, especially as developed by Pyotr Kropotkin (1842-1921) who made it a terrorist strategy, and such figures as Frantz Fanon (1925-1961) who saw violence as necessary in freeing the colonised from psychological trauma. 

 The founders of modern „jihadism‟ have further developed these ideologies. What is clear from this, and other studies, is that the makeup and ideology of terrorist groups always changes. Diego Gambetta and Steffan Hertog, for instance, have ably shown the vast overrepresentation of engineers in many early „jihadist‟ groups. This contrasted with some, such as the Red Army Faction, where humanities and social sciences graduates predominated. However, such profiles, despite the author‟s claims that these are probably (though they admit these remain speculative) linked to personality types, are not entirely useful. 

 Moreover, some of the most recent surveys of present-day „jihadis‟ show many coming from poorly-educated and deprived backgrounds contrasting with the more educated early figures and modern leaders. Indeed, this gives us no specific profile. The poorly-educated background is typical of some countries, such as France and Scandinavia, while the UK has produced  many who are often university graduates. This survey of the problem of profiling takes us back to the issue noted in our second question that we do not simply find a single pathway into radicalism or terrorism.

While Kepel and Roy present two grand narratives which explain the contemporary understanding of radicalisation, however, neither provides an overall perspective. Even in the French context, there is no agreement between them. Combined with a changing landscape, part of the problem is the presence of complex interaction between push and pull factors in the contemporary context. 

 For instance, there seems good reason to believe that a significant number of Muslims who travelled to Syria and ended up fighting there went initially as part of aid parties to provide humanitarian assistance. However, in the midst of a war zone, they ended up fighting and so became embroiled in what are termed terrorist groups.  A survey by the United Nations (UN) looking at returnee foreign terrorist fighters suggests that ideology often played only a very small part of these people‟s decision to become „jihadists‟. However, it is important to point out that as disillusioned returnees these individuals have an interest in playing down such ideological commitments – which still leaves us with a sizeable number who claimed such a stance. Rather, the desire to help their fellow Muslims who were perceived as beleaguered, in need, and under attack was the most dominant motivator. Arguably, at least, this is very different from what we may typically understand by the term radicalisation.

This last point raises the issue that pathways into radicalism are diverse and non-linear. Neumann has summed up what he describes as three types of radicals. First, defenders, those who primarily wish to defend their fellow Muslims. They may be devout but are not generally, what we would call “extremists.” Second, seekers whose involvement is not mainly about politics or religion but are those seeking “identity, community, power, and a feeling of masculinity” buy into the „jihadist‟ counterculture. This category also includes  hangers-on whose engagement is very much via Sageman‟s classic “bunch of guys” theory. Third, those who may not be ideologically motivated but whose attachment is to their specific close-knit community of friends. Such an approach seems more useful than taking a single meta-narrative approach.

Countering Radicalism with a Focus on Militant Neo-Islamic Jihadism

There is good reason to believe that the threat of far-right extremism, violence, and radicalisation poses an equal if not greater risk to society than „jihadism‟. This is certainly in the West, if not globally. Nevertheless, since the particular focus of this paper is on radicalisation associated with what I have termed Militant Neo-Islamist Jihadism, four main areas on policy relevant thinking are highlighted below.

 First, the term “radicalisation” itself is not helpful as it suggests some specific and particular ways by which “normal” people become violent. As noted, people join terrorist groups or become involved in radicalisation pathways through a variety of means. Not many are ideologically motivated, and certainly, a primarily religious motivation is nearly always secondary at most. Second, the youth „jihadist‟ cultural milieu is now booming and clearly established as cool. The answer to countering such a cultural milieu goes beyond just developing a moderate Islam – the likes of Tariq Ramadan speak to a very different group of people from the primarily street-culture-influenced 18-29 year olds who seem to be the main pool of radicals at present. Having credible moderate role models and voices showing that jihadism is not the only way to be Islamic, is still important and may have an effect, but the message needs to be packaged with education to a youth audience in ways that speak to them.

 Third, the changing jihadist landscape, with no definitive profile or pathway towards radicalisation presents a policy challenge. Much time is wasted looking for the single answer, or master key to unlock the door to solve the problem. While studies show that problems such as poverty, unemployment, prejudice, or relative social deprivation alone do not lead to radicalism, they nevertheless are often the seedbeds in which it can grow. Of course, the fact that jihadis can come from wealthy and educated backgrounds means resolving such problems alone will not be enough but it can certainly undercut certain pathways. In particular, what often emerges as a background is the sense of grievance that Muslims feel about the hypocrisy or unfairness of the West, or a belief that the “War on Terror” is a subterfuge for Westernising or destroying Islam. Again, while not a panacea, more just and transparent foreign and domestic policy can counter narratives that give credence to jihadist ideologies.

 Fourth, something of the elephant in the room and not directly addressed so far has been the issue of trajectories into violence.38 A radical milieu that does not result in violence remains perhaps a challenging, even troubling, counterculture, but not such a threat. It is clear that while many may embrace the jihadist counterculture very few actually take the further step to violence. Clearly, this issue needs to be addressed and understood as jihadism clearly countenances such a step. As noted above, quite a few studies suggest that indiscriminate finger pointing or surveillance of communities may be counterproductive. Any response to this therefore needs to be measured, targeted, evidence-based, and empathetic to the communities involved.

About the author

Paul Hedges is Associate Professor of Interreligious Studies in the Studies in Interreligious Relations in Plural Societies Programme (SRP), S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies (RSIS), Nanyang Technological University (NTU), Singapore. He has published eleven books and over sixty academic papers in such areas as interreligious relations and the study of religion.