Islamists and Salafists

By Ahmad Villasenor

http://journal.quilliaminternational.com

Dated: March 11, 2019

With religion having been largely relegated to the private sphere due in no small part to the secularising effect of the processes which culminated in the formation of the modern nation-state, this current state of affairs has given rise to concerns surrounding the assertive religious identities of many Muslim communities within the West. Chief among these concerns is the fear that gradual ‘Islamisation’ will result in a complete transmutation of the state and society. Amidst this discourse, the loose employment of terminology, specifically ‘Islamism’ and ‘Salafism’, has cultivated the negative perception in mainstream civil discourse that the two strands of thought correspond to a concerted effort by an overarching monolithic alien ideology to fundamentally reinvent society in the Islamic image. In his foundational work Sufis, Salafis and Islamists: The Contested Ground of British Islamic Activism, Sadek Hamid breaks down the three concepts that comprise the namesake of his book down to their constituent parts, revealing a rich history of conflict and debate within British Islamic activist organisations themselves with regards to their divergent aims and strategies. Utilising Sufis, Salafis and Islamists as the principal point of reference, this paper seeks to trace the contours of the intellectual landscape that Islamism and Salafism both occupy, with the aim of presenting the case that both philosophies have long been at loggerheads for supremacy in the Islamic marketplace of ideas, particularly in Britain where most of this paper’s analysis will be confined to. Furthermore, given that a clear demarcation of the relevant terms is a prerequisite for a holistic understanding of complex and contested concepts such as Islamism and Salafism, especially when it comes to the formulation of public policy, some clarification regarding definitions warrants considerable attention so that wider civil discourse is better equipped to address the issues raised by the influence of Islamism and Salafism British society.

Central to the Islamist worldview is the conviction that public life must revolve around Islamic law or Islamic principles. Consequently, Islamism is a proactive theo-political philosophy which places the re-establishment of an Islamic state as its raison d’être, and the pursuit of such a lofty goal has and continues to resonate with many Muslims both in the West and in the Muslim world. As Shadi Hamid and Rashid Dar point out, the “appeal to the past as a guide to the present is a powerful rhetorical device that forms a central strategy of Islamic groups who want to attract new members and inspire them to action”. However, harkening back and yearning for the halcyon days of the caliphate does not come without risk. Indeed, such an aspiration has aroused both suspicion and opposition from more secularised Muslim as well as non-Muslim societies that are understandably wary that such an assertive expression of religiosity carries the danger of radicalising Muslims of an Islamist persuasion. As a consequence, it has become and continues to be difficult, particularly in wider civil discourse, to disentangle the philosophy from the violent radicalisation that it has historically inspired. As Jonathan Brown succinctly puts it, the term “Islamist” “is thrown about loosely and clumsily because it is an amorphous and contested term that reflects the worldview… of whoever is using it more than any fixed reality”. This is not to say that Islamism is a pacifist philosophy; the historical record certainly suggests otherwise. However, its construction in the popular imagination as a violent societal menace, especially in the West, muddies the waters so as to obscure the reality that Islamists use wildly varying methods when attempting to promulgate their message and to pursue their agenda. To illustrate this point, Islamist political organisations such as the Ennahda Party in Tunisia work within the existing secular political framework to promote Islamic law and values. Conversely, the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS) seeks to forge an Islamic state through terror and force of arms. In light of this, it is more accurate to view the adherents of Islamism along a broad spectrum, wherein the “extremists may garner the most attention,” but “the vast majority of Islamists are not, in fact, violent”.

The Young Muslims UK (YM) is an Islamist reformist organisation launched in 1984 whose mission statement can be described as a ‘bottom-up’ approach of Islamisation through interaction between Muslims and non-Muslims by way of da’wah. As the man who is often regarded as the spiritual father of YM, Khurram Murad stated that the supremacy of Islam in Western society “shall not be realised unless the struggle is made by the locals. For it is only they who have the power to change the society into an Islamic society”. YM sought to inculcate a British Muslim cultural identity within its members and in so doing “reconcile the demands of faith, family and British society”.

Widely credited for “(re)introducing the concept of Khilafah into popular Muslim discourse,” it can be said that Hizb ut-Tahrir (HT) takes a ‘top-down’ approach of Islamisation by prioritising the establishment of a modern Islamic state above all other considerations. Hamid notes that HT’s strategy revolved around creating “a socio-psychological dissonance between the idea of being a British citizen and a Muslim” and “presented itself as being the force that would eventually usher in a modern Caliphate”. As evidenced by the group’s popularity among the Muslim university student demographic, HT successfully presented a convincing plan of a future caliphate, thereby driving home the message that political Islam was the panacea for the ills of British society and the ideal candidate to supplant it.

The underlying premise of Salafism is the idea that Islam in its most authentic form is to be found in the lived example of the first three generations of Muslims (Salaf) who were closest in both time and proximity to the Prophet Muhammad. It is also considered a defense against the creeping influence of Western ideas in the Muslim world as a result of European colonialism. In this regard, the strict interpretation of scripture and the close imitation of the Prophet’s habits can be seen as an effort to reassert a distinct Islamic identity in the face of modernity. One of the principal appeals of the Salafi approach to Islam was that its ultraconservative approach to tradition and scripture effectively unmoored the faith from local cultural influences and “contaminants” that it has come into contact with throughout the course of history, resulting in “a de-ethnicised supranational identity.” As the Salafi convert Abdurraheem Green stated, “Salafi thinking was powerful because it exposed the discrepancies between religion and culture.” The Salafi perspective has the effect of greatly enhancing this specific interpretation’s claim to authenticity, as it operates on its own self-sustaining logic free from what Salafists would consider the inconveniences of innovation and interpretation.

Unlike Islamists, many Salafists eschew the political process, believing that close adherence to doctrine and ritual will suffice in maintaining Muslim identity in secularised Muslim and non-Muslim societies. Moreover, many Salafists do not organise themselves into hierarchical structures; instead belonging to nebulous networks “with clusters of scholars, students and followers”. Regardless, Jamiyyah Ihya’ Minhaj as Sunnah (JIMAS), founded in 1984 and under the leadership of Abu Mutasir, was instrumental in spreading Salafism to Britain in the early 1990s. By regularly challenging established religious practices and imposing their own interpretation of ritual worship, such as wearing shoes while praying inside the Mosque believing it was a Sunnah, “Salafis thought they were teaching non-Salafi Muslims the correct understanding of Sunnah and removing bid’a”.

Not only do Islamist and Salafist organisations compete with one another in the marketplace of ideas, but even factions within the same ideological camp disagree with each other and fracture and split as a consequence of internal disputes. To illustrate this point, Hamid notes that an ideological rift began to develop between the leadership of Young Muslims UK (YM) as some favoured the work of Jamaat-e-Islami (JI) whereas others preferred the work of the Muslim Brotherhood (MB). Moreover, for Hizb ut-Tahrir, all other concerns are subordinate to the objective of re-establishing a modern Islamic state. Because of this, the group distanced itself from the Muslim Brotherhood, who it criticised for being far too concerned with morality and charity instead of striving to fundamentally change the socio-political order. In addition to this, YM and HT both shared the same target audience: young Muslims disillusioned with the status quo in their communities. However, thanks to the latter’s highly politicised agenda, Hamid argues that HT “seemed to hold an advantage over YM for its apparent intellectual sophistication and radical political analysis”.

By the same token, although the Salafist camp likes to project the image that it is only they who practise the pure distilled form of Islam, it is ironic then that Salafism as a school of thought is itself a house divided. According to Hamid, the “divergences stem from the different perspectives on how to respond to modernity and the socio-political challenges facing Muslims”. These differences are manifested in Quintan Wiktorowicz’s categorisation of the three main strands of Salafist thinking: ‘purists’, ‘politicos’ and ‘jihadis’. Given the level of disagreement between Islamists and Salafists that persists to this day, not to mention the disunity even among Islamists and Salafists themselves, the common perception that the two concepts represent a cohesive and coherent front to Islamise the state and society begins to lose much of its potency.

While there is plenty of evidence to show that Islamists and Salafists go to great lengths to distinguish themselves from one another, Hamid’s analysis of such organisations shows that, at least on the individual level, the two concepts share enough conceptual similarities that individuals can comfortably transition from being an Islamist to a Salafist and vice versa. The most notable example of this transition can be found in the case of Omar Bakri, who served as the leader of HT until 1996, when he was expelled from the organisation for his confrontational tactics and controversial stunts aimed at generating publicity for the group. Thereafter, he lead Al-Muhajiroun (AM) and made a concerted effort to distinguish himself and his new organisation from his previous associations by adopting a Salafi creed. Second, he argued that the re-establishment of the caliphate could take place in Britain. Third AM lent its support to the takfiri jihadism of Al-Qaeda. Finally, AM styled itself as an arbiter on the matter of ritual worship and interpretation of the sacred texts, which brought it into conflict with other Muslim groups as well as the British government. While the case of Bakri is not an explicit sign of cooperation, these individual transitions from one ideological camp to the other demonstrates the interchangeability and a semblance of similarity between the two ends of the conceptual totem pole.

Hamid’s analysis of the development of Islamist and Salafist activism in Britain paints an intellectual landscape that is in a state of constant flux. Moreover, his analysis provides ample reason to move beyond the simplistic notion pervasive within the wider discourse that the two concepts are monolithic forces. As such, a holistic understanding of Islamism and Salafism which takes into account the associated nuances demands the jettisoning of the negative connotations to terrorism and radicalism that have been deeply ingrained in the British psyche since the 9/11 and 7/7 attacks. This brief summary of the concepts of Islamism and Salafism as well as the constellation of organisations that orbit them puts forward a convincing case that they are competing against one another for supremacy in the marketplace of ideas. Nevertheless, Hamid’s analysis also makes clear that Islamism and Salafism are not hermetically sealed concepts, and in fact share enough similarities with one another to facilitate the transition of individuals from one end of the conceptual totem pole to the other, as the case of Omar Bakri shows.

Reference:

http://journal.quilliaminternational.com/2019/03/11/on-islamists-and-salafists/

House of Islam’ under siege: brave but flawed book

By Talmiz Amad

National Herald

Dated: October 14, 2018

Ed Husain came to world attention in 2007 with his book, The Islamist. This book provided a glimpse of how a South Asian Muslim immigrant in London was allured towards extremism and was indoctrinated in jihad. That book had then described the increasing disillusionment of its protagonist with jihadi doctrine and his return home to London.Ed Husain’s new book, The House of Islam, is an attempt to correct the ignorance and half-truths pertaining to Islam and Muslims, set out the dilemmas, doctrinal, and socio-political, that Muslims confront, and what should be done to address the conflicts that define contemporary scenarios in the Muslim world. Husain asserts that “there is a global battle underway for the soul of Islam”, mainly because Islam is “being politicised by political anger”. Its wellsprings emerge from pervasive authoritarian rule across West Asia as also Western policies of both buttressing these rulers and initiating violent military interventions against specific potentates to suit short-term interests. These factors have engendered deep emotions of “betrayal, hurt, injustice and humiliation” that have created two deep divides: between the rulers and their people and between the West and the world of Islam. Husain provides a lucid account of the doctrines and early history of Islam, the shaping of Sharia (jurisprudence) in the schools in the Islamic fold, the Sunni-Shia schism in Islam, and the persona of the average Muslim today. Husain devotes considerable attention to the Sufi tradition in Islam and highlights its significance through the lives and writings of stalwarts such as Rumi, Omar Khayyam, Abdul Qadir Jeelani and, interestingly, Princess Jahanara, the daughter of Emperor Shah Jahan. Sufis played a major role in the spread of Islam, conquering new lands “with their love, miracles and esoteric teachings, and by living pious lives among the masses”, and have hundreds of millions of followers today. The author correctly points out that, as the Muslim realm expanded under the banner of the new faith, it was moderate and flexible in the enforcement of doctrine, upholding public welfare rather the strict letter of the law.Again, it generally espoused policies of accommodation and pluralism where other faiths were concerned. This supremacy of Islam, political and civilisational, ended with the rise of Western scientific and industrial prowess and the military superiority this provided western powers. The defeat of Muslim empires was not just military; it was a total defeat – political, economic, intellectual and cultural.

Husain’s assertion that Mohammed ibn Abdul Wahhab only compiled Koranic verses and Hadith and wrote no commentaries is wrong: he was a great theologian and scholar and authored numerous commentaries on the Koran and Hadith, as even a superficial look at his biography will confirm

The author believes that three currents are influencing Muslim life today. First, Arabisation, the “disproportionate Arab influence on the Muslim world”. Though Arabs constitute only 20 percent of the world’s Muslims, contemporary Muslim affairs – political, economic, religious, social and moral – are being impacted mainly by Gulf Arab culture, promoted by petro-dollars, that is diluting the colour and variety of doctrinal and cultural expression of Islam world-wide.The second current is Westernisation, the influence of Western secularism and its liberal culture that is undermining traditional belief-systems and cultural norms. The juxtaposition of these two currents has led to “confusion” as the third current. This is the uneasy co-existence of two contradictory world-views in which American sartorial styles, music, eating habits and life-style inhabit the same space as adherence to jihad and wanton attacks on western and domestic targets, demands for a caliphate and calls for the destruction of Israel.Husain then examines Islamism, Salafi-Wahhabism and jihad, and the doctrinal bases of these precepts that ignite contemporary Muslim violence.He starts with the South Asian ideologue Abul Aala Maududi, moves rapidly to Hassan al-Banna and the founding of the Muslim Brotherhood, quickly links Banna with Muslim extremist violence in the late twentieth century, goes back and briefly looks at the ideologue Sayyid Qutb, goes even further back to the Kharijite extremists of early Islam, and then highlights the recent early twenty-first “moderation” of the Tunisian ideologue Rachid Ghannouchi, all in fifteen breathless pages!Surprisingly, there is no reference to the role played by the “global jihad” in Afghanistan, sponsored by the US, Saudi Arabia and Pakistan in the 1980s, in providing the organisation, leadership, weaponry, training, battle-field experience and, above all, doctrinal justification, for jihad.Husain’s discussion of what he calls “Salafi-Wahhabism” is replete with errors of fact and understanding. He conflates modern Salafism with Wahhabism, blames Saudi Arabia for the influence of this ‘baneful’ ideology, sees no difference between Wahhabism and jihadism, and finally loses all scholarly restraint by demanding that “Salafi-Wahhabism must be brought to an end” before it takes hold in other capitals.Husain has got it all wrong. Contemporary political Islam has three distinct expressions all of which are avowedly ‘Salafi’: Wahhabism, the informing doctrine of Saudi Arabia, is quietist in that politics and is the sole prerogative of the ruler. The second strand is represented by the Muslim Brotherhood, which espouses political activism, reflects diverse belief-systems, and, within an Islamic framework, can accommodate modern-day democratic politics. Neither Wahhabism nor the Brotherhood countenance violence as part of their belief-system.Jihadism, also called “Salafi-Jihadism”, insists that, in the prevailing political circumstances, the Islamist order can and should be attained only through violence, which is divinely sanctioned. Its intellectual moorings originate, not in the literature of Sheikh Mohammed ibn Abdul Wahhab, but in the writings of Maududi, Qutb, and, more recently, Abdullah Azzam, Ayman al Zawahiri, and the ideologue of ISIS, Turki bin Al Ali. None of them is part of mainstream Islamic doctrine and all of them draw conclusions from earlier commentaries in terms that suit their political posture and their actions.

The Saudi social-moral order has little to do with Wahhabi doctrine; it is based on pre-Islamic Najdi tribal norms. Wahhabism is primarily used to provide legitimacy for royal rule and the justification to exercise coercive authority in the state in the name of Islam Now, the errors. No, Puritans have not ceased to exist as a movement in the west; they are represented today by the various fundamentalist ‘Millenialist’ movements that emerged in 19th century US, whose adherents today constitute the majority among American Protestants.The Saudi social-moral order has little to do with Wahhabi doctrine; it is based on pre-Islamic Najdi tribal norms. Wahhabism is primarily used to provide legitimacy for royal rule and the justification to exercise coercive authority in the state in the name of Islam.Husain’s assertion that Mohammed ibn Abdul Wahhab only compiled Koranic verses and Hadith and wrote no commentaries is wrong: he was a great theologian and scholar and authored numerous commentaries on the Koran and Hadith, as even a superficial look at his biography will confirm. Husain’s description of the inclusion of Mecca and Medina in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia as an “occupation” reflects prejudice of the author and absence of scholarly balance.Finally, Husain’s view that the ISIS is a contemporary version of the early Kharijites makes little historical sense. While both are extremist movements and not amenable to compromise, the ISIS is the product of the unique political circumstances prevailing in Iraq during the Saddam era and later the US occupation.The ‘way forward’, Husain offers, to “heal the rifts and rancour in the Islamic world” consists of: creating a “Middle East Union”, implementing a “Muslim Marshall Plan”, and expelling violent extremists from the Muslim fold. None of these prescriptions has any basis in reality. Given the deep divides in West Asia and the visceral animosities that animate the principal powers, a political union is a remote prospect.Again, who will oust the jihadis from the Muslim fold when state powers have themselves used extremists to further their political interests – in Afghanistan, Kashmir, Iraq, Syria and Yemen?More seriously, Husain seems ambivalent about democracy in the Arab world: while he insists that the “ordinary Arab’s feeling of powerlessness needs to end” and emphasises the need to “open up pluralist political spaces and wider economic participation”, he also criticises western governments for calling for “secular, liberal, democratic” forms of government that do not allow for “global grey zones” or other forms of consensual or tribal forms of government.Ed Husain has made a brave attempt to explain Islam and contemporary Muslim politics and society to the lay reader. But, despite his earlier studies and personal experiences, the effort surprisingly is misleading, misdirected and deeply flawed in important respects, so that it produces confusion rather than clarity.

About the Author

The author is a former Indian ambassador to Saudi Arabia and writes extensively on Islam, jihad and West Asian politics

Reference:

https://www.nationalheraldindia.com/reviews-recommendations/house-of-islam-under-siege-brave-but-flawed-book

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.

Labelling IS Fighters: Khawarij, Not Jihadi-Salafis

 By Mohamed Bin Ali, RSIS Commentry

 No. 063 – 4 April 2018

Synopsis

Islamic State (IS) fighters are more suitably called Khawarij and not Jihadi-Salafis. An accurate labelling of them is important to avoid the wrong and misleading use of Islamic terms.

Commentary

The term ‘Jihadi-Salafis’ was first used by the French scholar Gilles Keppel in 2002 to describe a hybrid ideology in the anti-Soviet Afghan war. The event of September 11 saw this term widely used to refer to those Muslims who believe in using violence in the name of Jihad. They include members of Al-Qaeda and the so-called Islamic State (IS). The use of this term is inaccurate and problematic as it does not reflect the actions and characteristics of the true Jihadis or Salafis in traditional Islam. In fact, their indiscriminate violent actions go against the spirit of the teachings of Islam itself. A more accurate term to describe them is probably ‘Khawarij’, ‘Neo-Khawarij’ or ‘Modern-Day Khawarij’.

The Problem of Labelling

The term Khawarij refers to a group of Muslims in the early days of Islam believed to be the first violent movement in Islamic history. The ideology and characteristics of the Khawarij and IS show similarities between the two. Labelling IS fighters with terms such as fundamentalists, extremists, radicals, terrorists and others are often problematic. Likewise the Arabic terms Jihadis and Jihadi-Salafis. The problem arises when people adopt a broad-brush approach and are not careful when using these terminologies. As for the Arabic terms, many do not fully comprehend their meaning in the Arabic language. These terms are also not clearly defined while others simply define them based on mere assumptions and not on facts and knowledge. The Arabic term Jihadi-Salafi is not suitable to describe Muslims who are involved in senseless violent activities. This is simply because terrorism is not Jihad and a Muslim who truly follows the teachings of the salaf (referring to early pious Muslims) hence known as Salafi, will never commit indiscriminate violence. A more accurate term to describe the likes of IS fighters, one which has been recognised by many Muslim scholars today, is “Khawarij”.

Who are the Khawarij?

The term Khawarij (English: Kharijites) means renegades and comes from the Arabic word that means “those who left”. It refers to a group of Muslims who were initially followers of the fourth caliph of Islam, Ali Bin Abi Talib. Ali was the cousin and son-inlaw of Prophet Muhammad. This group which was later known as Khawarij went against Ali and broke away from him. They ex-communicated Ali and subsequently killed him as they claimed Ali did not rule with God’s laws. Khawarij was believed to be the first Muslim group to practise the ex-communication of believers (takfir) and legitimise violence on those whom they deem infidels. In fact, Prophet Muhammad had forewarned Muslims on the emergence of this group and described them as the worst of mankind. Many contemporary Muslim scholars have also labelled groups such as IS as the modern-day Khawarij or Neo-Khawarij because of their common characteristics. A renowned Muslim scholar, Shaykh Muhammad Al-Yaqoubi, author of “Refuting ISIS: A Rebuttal of Its Religious and Ideological Foundations”, mentioned in his book that there are solid reasons to consider IS followers as Khawarij. Three main characteristics of the Khawarij as described by Al-Yaqoubi are: 

1) revolting against the Muslim community (both against rulers and the community of believers; 

2) accusing the majority of Sunni Muslims of being unbelievers; and

3) deeming as permissible the spread of injustice by means of wanton killing, destruction and plunder. Undoubtedly, these are also the characteristics of IS.

Khawarij: Neither Jihadi Nor Salafi

The Arabic term Jihadi-Salafi used to describe violent IS fighters is misleading and needs to be corrected. The blatant and inappropriate use of these terminologies have resulted in the violation of the real meaning of these terms and how they should be understood. The term Jihadi comes from the Arabic word Jihad which means ‘to strive’. In the Islamic legal tradition, Jihad refers to the act of fighting a legitimate battlefield according to the regulations and conditions prescribed by Islamic law and jurists. From this definition, the word “Jihadi” means someone who performs Jihad. Even if we refer to those who fight in a legitimate Jihad, the correct term to call them is Mujahidin or Mujahidun (those who perform Jihad). As such, IS followers should not be called Jihadis nor Mujahidin as they are not performing Jihad. In fact, they have truly violated the Islamic tradition of Jihad.

True Meaning of Salafi

The term Salafi refers to those who follow the early Muslims who were companions of Prophet Muhammad, those who followed them and the scholars of the first three generations of Muslims. These early Muslims are known as salaf al-salih (pious predecessors); they enjoyed a special status among Muslims based on the Prophet’s

saying, “The best century of my people are those of my century, then the following, then the following.” Linguistically, a Salafi is a follower of the salaf and the salaf never advocated killings and violence. It is thus inaccurate to label violent IS fighters as Salafis. Their action

are clearly against the teachings of the salaf. Nevertheless, there are those who claim themselves to be followers of the salaf generation but advocate violence ̶ such as IS, Al Qaeda, Boko Haram and Jemaah Islamiyah. This is not in the true spirit of the salaf generation. Based on this explanation, it is misleading to use the term Jihadi-Salafis; worse, this would provide a sense of legitimacy to the violent IS fighters and approval of their atrocities as act of Jihad. As such, the most appropriate term is to label these individuals as the Khawarij of modern times as it reflects the common ideology and characteristics of the original Khawarij renegades.

About the author

Mohamed Bin Ali is Assistant Professor with the Studies in Inter-Religious Relations

in Plural Societies (SRP) Programme, S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies

(RSIS), Nanyang Technological University (NTU), Singapore. He is also a counsellor 

with the Religious Rehabilitation Group (RRG).