Can people truly walk away from terrorism? Inside the slow work of rehabilitation
- Written by: Weekend Times
As we reflect on 25 years since the 9/11 terrorist attacks that killed almost 3,000 people, terrorism remains an ongoing yet evolving threat that defies easy answers.
“Once
a terrorist, always a terrorist” is a familiar refrain. It reflects a common belief that all terrorist offenders are the same and rehabilitation programs simply don’t work.
A growing body of evidence tells a different story, suggesting some people genuinely can – and do – leave terrorism behind.
Our research looked at Australia’s longest-running program addressing the rehabilitation of those engaged in offending motivated by Salafi jihadism.
We found some participants don’t only stop offending, they also go on to build the skills and strengths to lead meaningful lives in line with their own values and interests.
No single path into or out of terrorism
The process that leads someone to get involved in terrorism is almost never down to just one cause or motivation. Instead, terrorist behaviour comes from a complex mix of factors, and how much each one matters differs from person to person.
Take ideology, for example, the set of political, religious or social beliefs a person or group uses to justify violence.
This plays a role in most people’s journeys into terrorism, but it cannot fully explain their behaviour or choices on its own. Ideology usually works together with other factors, especially relationships and the way a person’s social identity is formed.
For many people, becoming involved in terrorism is a way of meeting needs that aren’t being met elsewhere in their lives, such as a sense of belonging, purpose or significance.
Rebuilding a sense of identity
This matters a lot for how we think about people leaving terrorism behind. It means walking away from terrorist offending is far more complicated than simply quitting a group or a cause.
Successful disengagement is about finding something meaningful to engage with instead; something that lets a person thrive in a healthier, more social environment.
In other words, it’s not just about taking something away. It’s about building something new in its place.
One of the hardest parts of leaving terrorism behind seems to be rebuilding a sense of identity. Terrorist groups, including online extremist communities that support them, often give members a strong sense of belonging. When people leave, they frequently end up isolated and struggle to form new relationships or find purpose in their lives.
How well-designed programs can help
The Community Integration Support Program (CISP) was set up in Victoria in 2010, originally to help rehabilitate people whose offending was motivated by Salafi jihadism.
The program offers holistic, tailored support through a diverse team: religious mentors (community imams), case managers, clinical psychologists, an officer who helps participants move from prison back into the community, and a family support officer.
Our research gave us rare, in-depth access to key people involved, including 24 CISP participants, 20 of whom had been convicted of terrorism-related offences. Some were interviewed years into their rehabilitation.
We found reappraising their ideology helped the program participants move away from terrorism.
Disengagement often involves becoming more open-minded and willing to see nuance and grey areas, rather than seeing everything in black and white. This is usually built over years, through trusted relationships with mentors and unexpected acts of kindness from people once viewed as the enemy.
Several participants changed their beliefs genuinely through the process of being provided more knowledge, more contextual interpretation, more guidance, more care and respect, and more time. Over time, this let them feel safe enough to be vulnerable and to question the ideas and beliefs that had led to their crimes.
The religious mentors provided deeper knowledge, but it was the participants themselves who had to go through the difficult, sometimes humbling, process of reappraising what they believed.
Those who succeeded gained a lasting sense of humility and openness, something they could keep leaning on as they rebuilt their lives.
As one participant put it:
[The CISP taught me] to pay attention to context, that it’s not black and white […] It’s taught me humility. I was very judgemental before […] humbling was a difficult experience for me.
We also found that participants’ journeys into terrorism were often driven by moral considerations and values such as justice, compassion and self-sacrifice, but that those considerations were only extended to some and excluded others.
For these participants, leaving terrorism behind didn’t mean abandoning those values. It meant finding new, legitimate ways to express them, such as through service and a commitment to family, community, faith, and others they previously viewed as unworthy.
By redirecting these core values, participants found new sources of meaning and purpose after giving up their terrorist goals and the beliefs that went with them. This did not mean giving up their religion. Quite the opposite. It meant gaining a deeper and more nuanced understanding of their religious obligations.
A long journey
This is slow work. It takes real commitment from the imams and other staff, who accompany participants on a difficult but – for some – ultimately life-affirming journey, often over many years.
While a few participants show positive change quite quickly, most don’t start showing real, lasting change until three or more years into the program.
If we want fewer people to walk back into terrorism, the evidence suggests part of the answer is the patient, years-long work of helping them build a different life to walk toward instead.
Ramon Spaaij receives funding from the Department of Home Affairs and Victoria Police.
Debra Smith receives funding from the Department of Home Affairs and Victoria Police.
Muhammad Iqbal receives funding from the Department of Home Affairs and Victoria Police.
