Noor Huda Ismail

Dr Noor Huda Ismail is Visiting Fellow, S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore

There exists a widespread opinion within the Indonesian society that former members of local terrorist groups, such as the Al Qaeda-inspired Jamaah Islamiyah (JI) and groups that support the Islamic State (IS), such as the Jamaah Ansharut Daulah (JAD), should be treated as “dangerous and lunatic” individuals who do not deserve a ‘second chance’ to reintegrate back peacefully into mainstream society.^[1] In addition, a lack of knowledge on the complex issue of radicalism and terrorism, coupled with an out-of-proportion coverage of terrorist incidents in the media, could also erode social trust in a state that encourages reintegration of former members of terrorist groups. However, denying former members of terrorist groups, particularly those who have been convicted and have served their sentence (hereforth referred to as ‘ex-members’), a ‘second chance’ to re-integrate into society, through extensive rehabilitation, is counter-productive. Instead of curbing extremism within society, pursuing a severe, one-size-fits-all approach without room for rehabilitation, may well have the opposite effect of leading to a rebound in recruitment into terrorist organisations.

Ex-members of terrorist groups often face social hostility and harassment in public spaces as well as online spaces. In some cases, families of ex-terrorists isolate themselves from their larger community due to embarrassment and fear of harassment. In this context, the choice for an ex-member is stark: return to the path of terrorism, or to re-enter a society that is hostile to them. If he or she lives in a difficult social and economic situation, the lack of societal support may likely drive the ex-member back to their former extremist communities, where he or she will feel protected and cared for.

How can the state and civil society strike a balance between retaining social trust over the effectiveness of its counter-extremist measures and reintegrating ex-members into society? Addressing this question is critical. For one, there is the possibility of release of hundreds of convicted terrorists and perhaps also pro-Islamic State (IS) returnees from Syria, in the immediate future.

Academic research has theorised the process through (and the reasons for) which members of the society, in Indonesia and elsewhere, join Violent Extremist (VE) groups such as JI, IS and JAD, as well as leave VE groups (Borum, 2011; Horgan, 2008; Ungerer, 2011; Putra, 2013; Putra, 2014; Mufid, 2011). However, there is a dearth of empirical research on the process of rehabilitation of ex-members into society once they leave VE groups (see Bhui et al., 2012).

The militant struggle for an Islamic state in Indonesia dates back to the 1940s when Darul Islam (DI) fought for its establishment. In the 1950s, when DI’s influence was at its height, the outfit was reputed to have controlled vast swathes of Aceh, South Sulawesi, and West Java. Although DI was neutralised in the 1960s, its off-shoots and splinter groups, which included the Jemaah Islamiyah (JI), have continued the struggle to this day. As a result, Indonesia has experienced a series of deadly terrorist attacks since the early 2000s, including the Bali bombings in 2002, which killed 202 people. The idea of establishing an Islamic state is still prevalent within Indonesian society. A Ministry of Defence study revealed that 23 percent of high school and university students in Indonesia agree with the idea of an Islamic state or caliphate for Indonesia (Benar News 10 Oct 2017).

These deep roots have been bolstered by the more recent arrival of hardliner Salafi ideas from the Middle East. These ideas have challenged and undermined syncretic indigenous practices that have long contributed to the development of a pluralistic culture and religious tolerance in Indonesia. The speed, accessibility and decentralised nature of the internet enlarges the potential audience of extremist propaganda.

Using a qualitative method, this paper contributes to the debate around social reintegration of ex-members of terrorist organisations. Social reintegration is indicated by the safe transition of the ex-member into the larger community, during which the ex-member (as well as the community) alters their attitudes and behaviour. The paper proposes the Triple H (Heart, Hand, and Head) approach, involving the government, community leaders, civil society organisations and even private sectors, as a way to reintegrate ex-members. The paper then demonstrates the Triple H approach through an empirical reading of a personal experience in spearheading the reintegration of ex-members.

 

AN OUTLINE OF THE TRIPLE H APPROACH

The ‘heart’ facet of the Triple H approach signifies the importance of empathy in earning the trust of ex-members. This facet focuses on the physical and emotional well-being of the ex-member as one of the key goals of reintegration (Martin & Csikszentmihalyi, 2000). The ‘hand’ facet of the Triple H approach signifies the importance of providing useful skills that would enable ex-members to hold steady jobs, start small businesses, often in collaboration with other members of the society. The goal is to enable ex-members to lead financially independent, purposeful lives. The final facet of the Triple H approach, ‘head’, signifies the process of revisiting one’s old belief systems and having the courage to challenge them. It encompasses a mix of logical and emotional components, through which old belief-systems that centered around extremist ideologies are replaced with newer belief-systems centered around pluralism. Adapting from Villarosa and Hwang (2011), the ‘head’ facet includes three key elements: delegitimising violence; disapproving the justifications for violence; and offering positive, constructive alternatives. The Triple H approach combines narrative intervention, using the power of storytelling to encourage reflection and engagement with different perspectives.

The Triple H approach is unique in that it makes extensive use of ex-members who have been reintegrated and reformed, as tools in the reintegration process of other ex-members, as well as to dissuade new recruits. These reformed ex-members act as role models for others to emulate (Bandura, 1999). Their role in dissuading new recruits is crucial because VE groups have been exploiting the narrative of actual and perceived grievances to gain support and new recruits. The narrative of “credible voice” can help the potential recruits to make sense of their reality, fulfill the need for significance and meaning (Kruglanski et al, 2014). Thus, this approach sparks a constant cycle of reintegration and dissuasion.

My interest in this issue has been a personal one. The Bali bombing in 2002 was a turning point in my life. I was working as a special correspondent for The Washington Post covering the attack that killed more than 202 people, mostly foreigners. I quickly learned from one of police press conferences that Fadlullah Hasan, my roommate when I studied in an Islamic boarding school in Solo Central Java for six years in early 1980s, was one of the bombers.^[2]

Since that day, the question of why a smart, soft-spoken, and polite man like Hasan would become involved in terrorism has been a very personal one for me.  In pursuing this question, I interviewed hundreds of convicted terrorists inside Indonesia’s criminal justice system and visited some of their military camps in Ambon and Poso, two areas that were affected by communal conflicts after the collapse of Suharto’s regime in 1998 and in the Southern Philippines.

I won a British Chevening scholarship to further my master’s degree on International Security at St Andrews University, Scotland from 2005-2006. During that period, I conducted fieldwork in Northern Ireland, seeking to understand the conflict there. After meeting with a local NGO that has been trying to integrate former ‘terrorists’ to integrate back to society, I had an epiphany: “If this NGO can do it, I can do it in my country once I return.” The personal quest and historical connection to the network of militant groups in Indonesia has been essential in leading me to establish the Institute for International Peace Building in 2008. Through this Institute, I embarked on a series of controversial social interventions to help former convicted terrorists (or ex-members) to integrate back to society and then creatively to engage them in the peace narrative intervention.

The call to give those released terrorists a second chance to start a new life was not easy. For those who suffered the pain of terrorism directly such as the victims and their family, rehabilitation of ex-members will be controversial and even offensive. In addition, the issue of terrorism in Indonesia is often still viewed by some segments of the Muslim community as the West’s systematic efforts to corner Islam. From the societal perspective, counter-terrorism is still considered the sole responsibility of the state. Therefore, only a limited role is perceived for society in counter-terrorism.

Stemming from empirical readings of personal experiences in reintegration, this paper demonstrates the critical role of civil society in counter-terrorism through reintegration and rehabilitation of ex-members. In doing so, it also highlights the role of narrative format intervention, which I have used (and seen being used) due to its effectiveness in reducing resistance to attempts at persuasion (Murrar & Braur 2019). The succeeding section details the implementation of the Triple H approach vis-a-vis an individual ex-member. The next section details the implementation of the Triple H approach through a community workshop and a community-based online platform.

 

AN EXAMPLE OF IMPLEMENTATION OF THE TRIPLE H APPROACH

This section illustrates the practical implementation of the Triple H approach through empirical readings of personal examples of intervention. It is divided into three parts, corresponding to the three facets of the Triple H approach: heart, hands and head. The empirical example used in this section is that of my first ‘client’ (I use the term ‘client’ to underscore that I use the case management approach.)[3], Farihin Kandai, an Afghan veteran who fought with Osama bin Laden in the mid 1980s and went back to Indonesia in the early 1990s.

Farihin’s story is special because he comes from ‘blue blood’ of families involved in terrorism since many generations (Sageman 2004). He told me that his uncle was involved in the attempt to kill the first Indonesian president in the 1950s. It was through this connection of kinship that he too was selected to participate in military training in Afghanistan in the 1980s. Most of his younger brothers were also involved in terrorism in the country, including the bombing at the Philippines’ ambassador house in Jakarta in late 1990s, the Atrium Mall bombing in 2000s and church burning during communal conflict in Poso, Central Sulawesi in 2000s. In a nutshell, terrorism is Farihin’s family business.

With a background as an Afghanistan veteran in the 1980s, he earned social respect within a specific community of JI. Heroic stories of those who already performed jihad like Farihin is an important product of a jihadi subculture. It facilitates, encourages, celebrates, supports, and publicizes their actions through artefacts and narratives circulated through global media culture and technology.  He left the JI network after witnessing the hypocrisy of some JI leaders. “They told JI members in internal meetings and sermons for not cooperating with the authorities but privately, I know that they also asked for help from them that include taking their financial support” he explained.

 

HEART

‘Heart’ refers to earning trust from the ex-member through a display of empathy and authenticity. To earn Farihin’s trust, I had to first convince him of the genuineness of my interest in understanding his background and his drives. At the same time, I was honest about my personal background as a graduate of a JI school in Central Java, who later renounced his ideology, worked for the US media and then pursued further education in the UK and Australia. While by no means an easy task, this is a critical first step in gaining his trust. Without understanding the ex-member’s level of engagement in terrorism, the community can't help them integrate peacefully into the community. Earning his trust was made easier partly because I knew him through my work as a journalist for The Washington Post in 2002. We made a quick connection once he told me that his wife is also a graduate of the boarding school that I also attended, Al Mukmin, in Ngruki, Solo.

After earning his trust, I was able to ask Farihin questions about what it was like to live inside a violent group like JI. He said: “Being part of the (terrorist) group was an adventurous journey. I felt like I was part of something bigger than myself when I was with JI and Al Qaeda. Hambali always told us that we want to change the corrupt secular system in the world.” Through his personal connections with Hambali, an Afghan veteran from West Java who later joined Al Qaeda, Farihin’s involvement in terrorism gave him greater meaning and purpose. He spoke with confidence and authority. His remarks were not unique among the convicted terrorists whom I interviewed. They tend to identify themselves with much larger, frequently transnational, and more ideologically-constructed communities, on whose behalf they claim to commit attacks.

The aim of such initial interventions is to seek complex answers through asking the right questions, rather than expecting pre-supposed answers. The process is akin to the “Socratic approach” of learning.  In this regard, it is more useful to investigate how people change because of terrorist involvement rather than to simply ask why they joined terrorist outfits. That is because asking ‘why’ questions tend to produce ideological responses while asking ‘how’ questions reveal the importance of the process of entry, involvement and leaving terrorist organisations.

After Farihin’s release, he married for a second time. The extended familial relationship may well have contributed immensely to his emotional well-being during the reintegration phase, and prevented his rejoining his old organisations. I learnt an important lesson from this intervention: terrorism is a “part-time job” for most of Indonesians. They have social lives outside of their membership in terrorist and extremist organisations. Some, as demonstrated by Farihin’s example, actively seek out companionships and romantic relationships after their exit from terrorist organisations. Thus, civil society organisations could assist ex-members in pursuing meaningful companionships and familial relationships (either new or existing), as a key component of the ‘heart’ intervention.

 

HAND

After Farihin’s release from the prison, I helped him start a cacao farm business in Central Sulawesi. The business itself did not last. However, the experience further helped convince Farihim of the importance of economic stability for raising a family. Farihim was, by then, in his fifties. His priorities now shifted towards a familial life. However, his passion and desire to defend Islam did not evaporate. “Being a mujahid (an Islamic warrior) is my core identity” he continued to reason. His narrative supported what Horgan & Altier (2012: 86) has argued that “the process of ceasing terrorist activity. [...] Individuals may disengage from terrorism without necessarily 'de-radicalising' and abandoning their violent ideology.”

Scholarship on disengagement has also made a valuable observation that individuals are not simply involved in formal groups; rather they tend to have links to social networks and are often involved in recognisable sub-cultures (Bjørgo 2008). The process of disengagement does not necessarily indicate that an individual rejects the political project of their former group or broader reformation. Rather it focuses on behavioural change as a catalyst for ceasing to participate in active violence (Fink & Hearne 2008; Hwang 2018).

Considering this analysis, my initiative emphasises the importance of understanding disengagement as a social process embedded in a particular context and social network. It also underscores the twin importance of ‘heart’ with ‘hand’: while Farihin’s initial business initiative did not succeed, it drove him to prioritise the pursuit of economic activity (as opposed to rejoining terrorist groups) to sustain his new-found familial life.

 

HEAD

Interestingly, although Farihin still saw himself as a mujahid, when a group of much younger men gathered in a mosque in Menteng, Central Jakarta declaring their support for Al Baghdadi's call for an Islamic Caliphate in 2014, he was angry.^[4] I sat down with him in early 2015 to ask his reasons for not supporting Al Baghdadi’s Caliphate project. He explained that Al Baghdadi (of the Islamic State, or IS) commanded all Muslims to give their allegiance to him as the Caliph, and perform hijra (migration) to fight and expand the Caliphate’s borders through other traditionally Muslim countries. He added: “That was a nonsense call. Moreover, those IS supporters are clueless about jihad and therefore they don’t respect others who don’t share their understanding of jihad. As an Afghan veteran, I experience jihad. We worked closely with other factions that did not share our ideological beliefs. Kicking out the Russian army out of the Muslim land was what united us”

Perhaps because of his anti-IS stand, the Indonesian authorities attempted to use him to stop IS’ influence in the country. Farihim was extensively interviewed in the media. Watching him talking on TV, I quickly realised that he was eager to educate the public on the danger of IS’ ideology. He bravely said that IS does not represent Islam. As the anthropologist Atran (2015) said, “there is no shortage of credible voices ready to engage globally,” particularly former members of terrorist groups, against Islamist propaganda. However, Sim (2013) warned that working with former terrorists is a “delicate art”, akin to walking a tightrope. Part of the reason is that terrorist recidivism remains perennial issue in Indonesia.

Indeed, Farihin’s media appearances were not perfect. He spent much of his time glorifying his heroic past as an Afghan veteran, instead of systematically highlighting IS’ false narratives of a win-win situation for recruits: either martyrs in the afterlife, having died for the cause, or heroes in the new order. However, critically examining and debunking the narratives of extremist organisations is something that civil society activists, including myself, should actively assist in. This would, for instance, involve leveraging ex-members like Farihin as possible agents of change within their own communities. Their personal stories of leaving the violent network could help to reveal the hypocrisy of terrorist groups for prospective recruits to see. 

However, there are challenges with the use of ex-members (or ‘formers’) for Counter Violence Extremism initiatives. These include authenticating of their stories; ensuring the formers are not placed on a ‘celebrity’ pedestal; and ensuring there is no recidivism. The stories of an ‘Afghan veteran’, Abu Tholut and a ‘Moro veteran’ Abdullah Sunata, serves as a cautionary tale. They were considered “cooperative” by Indonesian police but were later involved in militant training in Aceh in 2009, shortly after their release.^[5]

 

THE TRIPLE H APPROACH THROUGH A COMMUNICATION WORKSHOP

In 2013, a CVE study conducted by a group of former intelligence and counterterrorism officials observed that “while governments across the world have had many notable successes against extremist and terrorist groups, … in one key area they have fallen short: in countering the narratives that inspire individuals to join such groups in the first place. This is costly. For as long as extremist narratives continue to inspire new recruits to join movements, the battle will continue for generations to come” (QIASS, 2013). The growth of extremist narratives on the internet has been rapid. How far and in what ways can government, social media and civil society disrupt the online ecosystem propagating violent extremism?

In August 2018, together with my team, I put together a communication workshop for 10 ‘credible voices’ and 20 ustadhs, or teachers — university professors and Muslim scholars, split equally between men and women.^[6] Those ‘credible voices’ represented four generations: those who had joined the U.S.-backed mujahedin to fight the Soviets in Afghanistan in the 1980s; two former fighters from an extremist group that sought to impose Islamic rule on the Philippines in the 1990s; six militants who took active part in Indonesia’s Muslim-Christian riots; and a 19-year-old girl who had gone to Syria with more than two dozen members of her family to join IS. Formers and ustadhs were paired together in a sort of ‘Secret Santa’ arrangement, in which the formers — dubbed "Angels" — would oblige their ustadhs — dubbed "Humans" — with uplifting texts or food deliveries. I deliberately designed this social intervention as part of the ‘heart’ facet: change requires minute acts of kindness between participants.

The workshop exposed the formers (or ex-members) to ‘everyday’ interactions with those members of society who were, in the eyes of extremists, antagonistic to their ideology. These included the above-mentioned Ustadhs and Muslim scholars who did not share in their ideology. They also included a Christian online branding expert; a counter-extremism expert from Facebook; and a humanitarian aid-worker, who worked with Muslim refugees in the Rakhaine. These interactions, a crucial part of the ‘head’ approach, brought home the ways in which extremist ideologies are spread online; as well as the possible methods by which such propaganda could be tackled.

Following the workshop, the formers were encouraged to keep in touch through a website, www.ruangobrol.id. Ruangobrol.id attempts to reduce the backlash faced by the formers, who are more likely to confirm their “prior beliefs” in processing information, especially from an outside group. Ruangobrol.id employs reformed terrorists as a ‘credible voices’ in anticipation of that backlash. The idea of having a counter-violent extremism (CVE) digital ecosystem development is grounded in the social psychological theory of “motivated reasoning” (Kunda 1990), that argues that individuals who are strongly committed to specific causes tend to avoid contact with information or people who can change their commitment. Ruangobrol.id is designed to further assist the formers to integrate into society and stem recidivism. The active participation of the formers in the website’s attempts at counter online extremist propaganda is a key example of the ‘heads’ approach in action. The formers are fostered with a sense of purpose, even as they are themselves inducted into a new community of counter-extremism.^[7]

 

CONCLUSION

A key factor that contributes to the success of these programmes, and of the Triple H approach in general, is the effective utilisation of former members of terrorist organisations (‘formers’ or ex-members) as the trainers themselves. Their voices have high credibility, and are important to gain the initial trust of participants. The stories of the formers, and their role in the workshops, were published in a widely-circulated book (titled, Menanti Yang Kembali or ‘Waiting for the Return’). The book could, potentially, be used as a means of replicating these workshops in other parts of Indonesia. To further amplify the impact of these workshops, a documentary film, titled The Mentors, was also released. The film also acts as a tool to enable outreach to different stakeholders (especially local government) to understand the project and know how to replicate it in their respective regions.

Failing to reintegrate convicted terrorists who have served their sentences, back into the community, presents a very real risk of recidivism, and thereby, increase in a risk of further terrorist attacks. The number of recidivists among convicted terrorists has increased in the last decade. It is, therefore, necessary to actively involve the community in reintegration process as an effort to prevent new acts of violence committed by former convicted terrorists and to cut the vicious circle of their old group associations.

Counter Violence Extremism programs (CVEs) call for a systematic social intervention to stop the process of re-radicalization. The Triple H approach has proven particularly effective in the process of reintegration of formers (or ex-members of terrorist organisations), through empathy, refutation of beliefs, and instilling a sense of purpose and vocation. It further utilises reformed formers as ‘credible voices’ to prevent re-radicalisation among other formers, thereby producing a domino effect. This approach has further been systematised by community-led initiatives such as engaging community workshops, as well as the Ruangobrol.id initiative, which helps tackle online extremism.

The empirical examples presented in this paper demonstrate how a combination of online and offline social interventions needs to be implemented, preferably through an overarching Triple H approach, for effective reintegration of former members of terrorist groups. It is imperative that these projects are replicated in different parts of Indonesia, and their impact subjected to a more rigorous study.

 

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Bandura, A. (1999). Moral disengagement in the perpetration of inhuminities. Personality and Social Psychology Review, 3, 193-209.

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Ithaca: Cornell University Press. URL: ISBN-10: 1501710826 ; ISBN-13 : 978-1501710827

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Putra, I. E., & Sukabdi, Z. A. (2013). Basic Concepts and Reasons Behind the Emergence of Religious Terror Activities in Indonesia: An Inside View. Asian Journal of Social Psychology, 16(2), 83–91. https://doi.org/10.1111/ajsp.12001

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Sim, Susan. (2013, February 21). The Delicate Art of Using Terrorist Dropouts. The Wall Street Journal. Retrieved from https://www.wsj.com/articles/SB10001424127887323549204578317634060276050

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URL: https://www.ipinst.org/wp-content/uploads/publications/beter.pdf

[1] The Human Security Approach rose to prominence through the adoption of General Assembly resolution 66/290 on 10 September 2012 was a significant milestone for the application of human security approach.

[2] http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/06/25/AR2005062500083.html

[3] Case management is the activity that include recording, monitoring and analysis in the process of understanding a specific case. There are at least four levels of activities – intake, needs, assessment, service planning, and monitoring and evaluation.

[4] https://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-02-22/islamic-state-supporters-run-recruitment-drive-at-jakarta-mosque/7188058

[5] http://qiass.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/QIASS-Leveraging-Terrorist-Dropouts_Susan-Sim-final-101514.pdf

[6] https://www.latimes.com/world/asia/la-fg-indonesia-deradicalization-2018-story.html

[7] Ruangobrol.id continues to work extensively with Facebook to combat violent extremism by redirecting hate and violence- related search terms towards resources, education and outreach groups that can help. What it means is that when people search on Facebook for terms related to jihadism in Indonesia, they are directed to Ruangobrol.id. Some of these keywords can sometimes be linked to dangerous individuals or groups.Ruangobrol.id tracks extremist-oriented posts on Facebook. It classifies individual posts into four categories: Red (potentially dangerous); Orange (already quite extreme); Yellow (becoming more involved); and Green (mostly just curious).

 

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The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect those of the Asia Research Institute, National University of Singapore.