Counter-terrorism

Strife Series on Counter-Terrorism in Modern Warfare (Part III) - Strings Attached? Counter-Extremism in Multilateral Humanitarian Programming

November 20, 2020 by Joanna Lancashire

by Joanna Lancashire

Is the sun setting on violent extremism or is it an enduring challenge? (Image credit: AFP)

That CVE, or the notion of ‘Countering Violent Extremism,’ can be tied to development assistance is not a new one. USAID has been conducting CVE programming in West Africa since 2006. ‘Countering violent extremism’ gathered significant attention during increased flows in foreign terrorist fighters to the Islamic State (ISIS) in Iraq and Syria. The impression, that the shape of violent extremism itself was changing with the rise of the Islamic State, can be seen as the impetus for a wider range of CVE policies, and a wider range of involved actors in the humanitarian space, including multilateral organisations. Alongside many national development agencies strategies adopted in the early 2010s, multilateral organisations such as United Nations Development Program (UNDP) initiated work into preventing and countering violent extremism in 2014, with then UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-Moon presenting a ‘Plan of Action to Prevent Violent Extremism’ in December 2015. Although lacking in both uniformity of purpose and strategy, the ideals underpinning CVE - that violent extremists should not only be fought by military means have been driven into the political lexicon by humanitarian actors working toward international peace and security, and countering terrorism as a wholistic concept.

The landscape of violent extremism is increasingly fractured by the nature of the battle spaces and ease of cross-border movement that have defined the early 21st century. For humanitarian organisations, the congruence between development work and countering extremism is perceivably a natural one. Broadly defined, humanitarian P/CVE programming in practice can extend from deradicalisation programmes and cross-community dialogue initiatives to the development of counter-messaging products, to name only a few practice areas. In ways, many of the elements that underpin the current discourse on CVE - community capacity building, education, civil society - are all equally underpinnings of development work in general. To some degree the components of CVE, and in a more limited sense its more controversial iteration ‘Preventing Violent Extremism’ (PVE), may be presented as falling under the remit of work being conducted already and the mandate that humanitarian organisations are already bound to perform.

Beyond a value-based rationale, the practical reasons for humanitarian organisations to be the ones to conduct this type of work are many. Multilateral humanitarian organisations may benefit from freer access than state representatives, and may have better relationships with both civil society groups working in peacebuilding and governance, and with violent or extremist actors themselves. From a perceptual point of view, acting as an international organisation can be more effective in jurisdictions where state troops may still be present. There can however be a perception that such activities, particularly when tied to directed funding from states, may push the boundaries of neutrality, to say nothing of the security implications for those involved. Lack of institutional memory or contextual expertise - an issue that is not specific to the humanitarian field, but strongly pronounced in an area in which personnel turnover is high and record keeping can be limited - means humanitarian CVE programming may suffer from questions of efficacy as well as sensitivity.

The definitional issues around P/CVE and problematising of the term, merit a far longer discourse than this piece has time for. However, the continuing lack of uniformity in the way P/CVE is discussed at high-level forums, or in practice or policy, creates issues even as the terms become more commonplace, and the issues better understood. The United Nations has chosen a path that defines its work around both PVE and CVE, though this type of programming was largely initiated on the back of the concept of prevention. P/CVE work is inherently political given its links to the counter-terrorism strategy of states. There is an argument to be made that the move toward state funding of humanitarian C/PVE policies through multilateral organisations is, if not an abdication of responsibility on the part of governments, then a redistribution of it. Despite principles of neutrality, humanitarian organisations are not inherently apolitical, nor are they viewed this way in the field. If anything, national governments have a stronger interest in preventing violent extremism (insofar as this is possible) but run the political and reputation risk of conducting this work themselves. This is particularly relevant given that the discourse that underpins P/CVE has been criticised for assumptions about its target groups. Both in conducting the work of constructing effective programming, and engaging with the discourses left behind by states themselves, this places a heavy burden on humanitarian organisations to manage the risks delineate the policy, they are at least partially implementing on behalf of states.

There is clearly a strong difference between implementing CVE policies in developed societies, and programming in often unstable field environments post or pre-conflict. With few exceptions, arguably not enough work has been completed to consider the efficacy of adapting programmes and ideas such as counter-messaging that have become popular in developed countries to the specific field contexts in which they are being trialed. CVE is still a comparatively nascent field. A problem pervasive to the field in general, but critical in the context of humanitarian operations, is a lack of solid monitoring and evaluation practices and mechanisms. While this is a critical problem in the context of any type of programming, it can be further exasperated in an environment such as humanitarian work facing complex and politically sensitive working environments. This is particularly relevant given that much of the research suggests that targeting disengagement, rather than deradicalisation, may be a more practical goal for CVE programs. This is a difficultly in field environments where lines between structures of radicalisation and recruiters may be both in close proximity, and difficult to disentangle from the structures of community themselves.

Critical problems are clear in the space between how CVE is discussed in high-level policy, and how this translates to implementation in the field. Questions of impartiality with regard to CVE programming are likely to become further embedded as the humanitarian space becomes not only more crowded but more diversified in character. Without a clear policy delineation, and confident consensus at least in the framework of ethics around CVE, humanitarian actors may run the risk of worsening the state of the environments they seek to aid.

Joanna Lancashire completed her Master’s degree in International Security at Sciences Po Paris specialising in Middle Eastern studies, where she was Editor-in-Chief of the Sciences Po Review of Public Affairs. Prior to this, she completed her undergraduate degree in Politics and Law at Sciences Po Paris and at Trinity College Dublin.

Strife Series on Counter-Terrorism in Modern Warfare (Part II) - Deradicalisation and its Effectiveness: A Study of Saudi Arabia and Yemen (Part 1)

November 16, 2020 by Anahad Khangura

by Anahad Kaur Khangura

Innovative approaches to extremist rehabilitation in Saudi Arabia allow former terrorists to engage in a range of activities, in an attempt to speed up their inclusion into society (Image credit: Getty)

The continual transformation of terrorism demands an equally changing methodology of Counter-Terrorism (CT). In the 21^st Century, CT strategies embraced both ‘hard’ and ‘soft’ power instruments. More holistic approaches to understanding terrorism now directly engage with the ideological driving agents. The adoption of deradicalisation programmes, a constituent of the soft power approach, is being popularised to replace the ‘war on terror’ with the ‘war on ideas.’ Such programmes are significant components of CT policy, focusing on the use of non-coercive methods to disengage individuals from violent ideology and its operational slaughter.

Before 9/11, an active debate in the CT realm criticised the ‘kinetic approach’ towards terrorism, which treated terrorism as an immediate phenomenon and undermined the significance of socio-economic and political underpinnings. The primary challenge with the hard power approach of containment is that it only allows the disruption of the physical process of terrorism, but completely ignores the urgent need to dismantle the ideology which usually serves as the foundation of terrorist organisations. Consequently, deradicalisation programmes, which directly engage with the ideological substructures of terrorism, are now being incorporated as significant aspects of counterterrorism initiatives.

Deradicalisation can be defined as ‘the social and psychological process whereby an individual’s commitment to…violent radicalisation is reduced to the extent that they are no longer at risk of involvement and engagement in violent activity.’ Therefore, the primary aim of deradicalisation programmes is to bring about a cognitive modification in the mindset of terrorists with consideration of the ‘push’ and ‘pull’ factors. The former drivers might make an individual quit the group due to adverse reasons (disillusionment with the agenda and the leadership of the organisation); the latter are relatively positive factors such as the establishment of new social relationships and financial incentives.

This piece will identify the fundamental elements of deradicalisation programmes, evaluate and identify their limitations, and assess initiatives adopted in Saudi Arabia and Yemen.

A variety of CT programmes

Even though deradicalisation programmes are being widely adopted by countries, there is a lack of formal conceptualisation about the framework and scope of such programmes. Most programmes engage with risk reduction by focusing on different methods such as deradicalisation, counter-radicalisation, and anti-radicalisation. The aim of deradicalisation programmes is ‘reverse radicalisation’ which implies that it is only applicable to individuals where the process of radicalisation has been completed. The adoption of a particular programme completely depends upon the exclusive elements and the socio-political setting of the terrorist organisation. Before such programmes can be assimilated into a counterterrorism strategy, the structure should be precisely demarcated in accordance with the problem at hand.

Deradicalisation programmes gained momentum in their function of acknowledging the critical grievances of the society which might have been abused by terrorist groups to bolster recruitment. As a part of the soft power approach, deradicalisation programmes deem the ideology of terrorist organisations as illegitimate and distorted. Additionally, they can also engage with the sense of alienation, perpetuated by an ‘in-group versus out-group’ ideology, which in turn is utilised by terrorist organisations to expand their network. Deradicalisation programmes can address the issues of a fragmented society and subsequently encourage social cohesion and unification.

Broadly speaking, deradicalisation programmes are tailored to ensure the smooth return of the incarcerated terrorists to mainstream society, reconfiguring to the societal norm their extreme mentality, dissociating them from their violent behaviourism, and providing them with a stable network of support. Deradicalisation programmes also heavily rely on the significance of personal relationships of former terrorists to convince detainees to rectifying their extremist behaviour. Deradicalisation programmes are therefore an amalgamation of religious re-education, cultivation of personal relationships, and vocational training to ensure the smooth reintegration of released terrorists into society.

Case study 1: Saudi Arabia

In 2004, a deradicalisation programme was adopted in Saudi Arabia in response to the escalation of terrorist-related activities in the period between 2003 and 2004. The programme originated with the government’s realisation that deviant interpretations of Islam cannot be combated by conventional security methods alone. The Kingdom adopted a soft power approach to tackle and mitigate the consequences of violent extremism. The programme requires dialogue between terrorists and religious clerics to impart educational discourse which can alter and subsequently replace the perception of their distorted ideology with the correct fundamentals of Islam.

The first phase of the programme is the al-Munasah (information) stage, which includes dialogue between credible religious clerics and prisoners. During this initial stage, the clerics attempt to initiate debate regarding the prisoner’s perceptions of Islam and his justifications for the same. The chief aim of the dialogue is to impart information on topics such as ‘takfir (apostasy), walaah (loyalty), bayat (allegiance), terrorism, the legal rules of jihad, and psychological courses on self-esteem.’ The second stage of the programme is the transfer, of those detainees who cooperate and renounce violence, to the Mohammed bin Nayef Centre for Counselling and Care. In this part of the programme, detainees engage in recreational activities which could ease the transition of prisoners back into society. This aspect of the programme is critical, as such activities could contribute to the deradicalisation process because they promote teamwork, which in turn encourages the notions of acceptance and inclusion.

Through the involvement of educational discourse and vocational training, the Care Centre aims to maintain low levels of recidivism by directly engaging with the grievances of the detainees. Once a detainee displays modification in his extremist mindset, assistance is provided to find a job and acquire accommodation. A successful element of the programme is the involvement of family networks in the deradicalisation process of the individual. By relying on traditional family networks and broader notions of social responsibility, the programme enhances its legitimacy and credibility.

The deradicalisation programme of Saudi fuelled debate about the efficacy and transferability of such programmes. The programme has reported that ninety per cent of its participants renounced their radical views at completion. Additionally, the recidivism rates remained low at just two per cent, in which none of the violent attacks was conducted within Saudi Arabia. However, this has raised criticism that the programme could only prove effective within the confines of Saudi territory and would not contribute to tackling the global escalation of terrorism.

Another issue with the effectiveness of the programme is that even though the percentage of deradicalised individuals is impressive, the remaining ten per cent of prisoners represent a gravity of these cases. These are the detainees who were ‘hardcore militants with entrenched deviant beliefs,’ who rejected cooperation with the rehabilitation process, and declared the clerics as illegitimate due to their allegiance to the ‘West-aligned Saudi government.’ Most of these detainees, who have been previously imprisoned in Iraq and Guantanamo Bay, reached that stage of radicalisation which surpasses the extent of any deradicalisation programme. Therefore, the figures suggest that the programme is unable to reach the most intransigent extremists, from whom the highest risk emerges, which taints the overall success of the programme and limits its capacity to individuals who are minor offenders

Case study 2: Yemen

The deradicalisation programme in Yemen, called the Dialogue Committee (DC), was launched in the aftermath of the 9/11. Similar to the agenda of the Saudi programme, the primary objective of the DC was to convince the most extremist members of al-Qaeda to alter their perceptions of Islam. The agenda of the Yemeni programme was to dismantle the core ideology of the Base, which was identified as the root cause of terrorism. Therefore, this programme intended to reform the extremist outlooks of the hardcore terrorists which could eventually de-escalate potential recruitment. The organisation of the programme relied on three prominent religious clerics who engaged in dialogue with detainees on the principles of Islam, the responsibilities of a Muslim leader, the significance of jihad, and relations with Western states.

The Dialogue Committee relied on sacred texts such as the Quran to facilitate dialogue. The detainees, however, consistently criticised the Yemeni government as a tool of Western allies and therefore declared the state to be contradicting the interests of the Muslim populace. The lead cleric, judge al-Hitar, compared the texts of the Quran and the Yemeni constitution to prove their alignment and correspondence. The sole impetus of the programme was not only to mitigate radicalisation, but also to achieve political objectives such as increasing the legitimacy of the Yemeni government in the eyes of the people.

In addition to religious reorientation, the DC also encourages family participation in the process of deradicalisation of the detainee. The involvement of family was entrenched in the programme, as family members could exert social pressures on the detainees which could encourage them to denounce their radical values. Social and monetary incentives were also provided to detainees to ensure their smooth reintegration into mainstream society. The programme also encouraged the development of personal relationships and also provided aid to acquire employment.

The successful completion of the programme was followed by the decision regarding the early release of erstwhile extremists. If a detainee was released, then he was made to sign a pledge to ensure that he would refrain from participating in terrorist-related activities against the state. This aspect of the programme has been highly criticised. The drawback, which was intrinsic to the structure of the programme, was that this programme solely focused on containment of extremism within the borders of Yemen. Therefore, the Yemeni programme did not contribute to risk reduction at a global level. Another critical drawback of the Yemeni programme is that the programme digressed from its main agenda of deradicalisation to attaining narrow political objectives of expanding government credibility. The programme implicitly targeted ‘political expediency’ rather than altering the extremist mindsets of detainees.

The second part of this Strife Series’ contribution was published on Wednesday 18 November 2020.

Anahad Khangura has recently received her Master’s degree in International Peace and Security from the War Studies Department at KCL. Her academic interests are inclined towards types of political violence and counterterrorism strategies. For her Master’s dissertation, Anahad evaluated the adaptability of terrorist organisations in light of a comparative analysis between Lashkar-e-Taiba and Hezbollah. You can follow her on Twitter @Anahad15.

Strife Series on Counter-Terrorism in Modern Warfare (Part I) - The Importance of Labels: A Social Psychology Approach to Counterterrorism Policies

November 13, 2020 by Lucía Ruiz Vila

by Lucía Ruiz Vila

Fighters of the Kurdistan Workers Party (PKK) during their retreat from Turkey into Northern Iraq (Image credit: Firat News Agency/AP)

Terrorism is constituted through discourse. Understanding that process of construction can provide important insights for policy and practice. This piece will first address how a group’s identity determines the way in which the narrative on terrorism is constructed and how that identity impacts the possible policies in response. The second part is a case study of the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (Partiya Karkerên Kurdistanê, PKK), in which two actors, in this case: Turkey and the EU, both label this group as ‘terrorist’ but differ in their counterterrorism policies towards it. This divergence is to do with their respective construction and understanding of terrorism, which are radically opposed. Ultimately, this group identity can be considered as the premise for constructing terrorism through language. By analysing the process behind labelling a group as terrorists, the type of counterterrorism policies available to each actor can be better understood.

Social Psychology, Discourse, and Terrorism

This essay will particularly explore how social behaviour is determined by discourse. Social psychology is concerned with how individual behaviour is affected by social behaviour. Within the field, social psychologists link language with terrorism by arguing that the latter is a ‘naming-making practice,’ which implies that instead of focusing on the terrorists’ motivations, they look at people’s perceptions of those. Therefore, terrorism is a ‘socially constructed’ term, as what the terrorists think of themselves becomes less relevant than what ‘we make of the terrorists.’

It is important to remark that not everyone has equal power to construct this discourse. Bathia refers to the ‘politics of naming’ to explain how influential actors are the ones who impose their perception of reality on others. This imposition on the way in which we refer to reality will develop into the construction of ‘common knowledge,’ that is shared understandings of the reality which ultimately fence in the possibilities for policymakers to step out of that narrative.

Group Identity

Discourse on terrorism is constituted by referencing, developing, or reassuring the identity of the group that is affected by terrorism. This essay suggests three guiding questions that reveal how this process is made:

Who is the ‘Other’?
Can we engage in a conversation with the Other’s claims?
Does an attack by the ‘Other’ threaten our identity?

Answering the first question allows an understanding of how a group builds its own identity by attributing undesirable characteristics to the opposite ‘Other.’ In the case of a terrorist attack against a specific group, their identity might be reinforced through negation, arguing that no one from the in-group could engage in such violent action. This notion of members of the inner group denying the possibility of ever being like the ‘Other’ resonates with Foucault’s explanation of group belonging and language. The French philosopher argued that groups distance themselves from others who they deem inferior by labelling them as ‘mad.’ Once this perception is built, and sanity is on the side of the group, the use of language will reinforce that perception.

If the ‘Other’ has been constructed as immoral, it is harder for individuals to engage with them in a conversation to try to understand their reasons, as they fear falling into a trap of ‘humanising‘ what is by nature ‘evil.’ In this case, this is even more difficult if the reasons behind a terrorist attack are blurred by media and politicians. For instance, in the United States after 11 September 2001, media and politicians referred to terrorism by reinforcing its irrationality and extremism, which portrayed them as an illogical actor with whom there could be no dialogue. If there is a sense of fear among the population, the practice of othering will become more acute, and the conditions for belonging to the in-group will be more restrained. This is how, to answer the third question, a group will determine if the terrorist attack impacts the core of their identity. This was also the case with the previous example of the post-9/11 USA, as American media spread a sense of fear through a victimising discourse accusing “the other” of threatening their values as a nation.

Limitations on Policies

The limits on the possible policies in reaction to terrorism will mainly answer two questions:

Is this threat inevitably recurring? Or is it an extraordinary event?
Are we willing to do whatever it takes to respond to the threat?

If by answering the first question, the group identifies the threat as extraordinary, this will give rise to the ‘politics of exception’ which will allow for the government to have unchecked power in order to answer to the terrorist threat. Media can add to this narrative by fuelling a sense of urgency and fear that encourages governments to take measures that may be considered non-democratic to tackle the issue. Another reason why constructing the nature of the threat is important is because it will determine which departments of government will respond. For instance, because the US portrayed al-Qaeda as a military target, its response inevitably involved the Army and the Department of State; if it had been constructed as a criminal act, it would have been confronted by the police.

Furthermore, this differentiation will determine what type of limitations, if any, that group will set for its policies on terrorism. If the threat is seen as extraordinary, there will be a risk of forsaking civil liberties in exchange for the state to guarantee security. This state of exceptionality can also lead to an erosion of public morality, which will make terrorists seem undeserving of human rights. Nevertheless, perceiving the treat as exceptional does not mean that the group will be willing to set no restrictions on their possible policies in response. This was the case of Spain who decided not to extradite to the US an al-Qaeda cell found after 9/11, as they feared that the terrorists would be sentenced to the death penalty, which under the EU legislation would have been illegal.

Adaptability is also a very important part of the policy limitations on terrorism, as what is framed as extraordinary in a first instance, might become normalised over time. This was the case when the UK labelled migration as a security issue. This label became part of its counterterrorism narrative after 9/11. At present, the government understands migration as a matter of security because it may give rise to social tensions, but not because it is related to terrorism. This shift of perception promoted new democratic channels to tackle the issue instead of justifying political decisions on an overly extended threat or state of exceptionally. In conclusion, by understanding how group identity impacts the construction of terrorism through discourse, important insight can be gained on the types and limitations of counterterrorism policies available to different actors.

Case Study: The Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) as a terrorist group

The case of the PKK in Turkey is a prime example that shows how terrorism is constructed through language and discourse. It demonstrates how two actors, Turkey and the EU, who labelled the PKK as a terrorist group have radically opposed policies, due to their in-group identity, and how they construct the nature of the terrorist group. The Kurds have historically been suppressed by the Turkish state, unable to exercise their right to autonomous government or cultural expression of any kind. In the 1970s, the PKK was founded to defend the Kurds within Turkey, and in 1984 they began engaging in violent action against the government to reclaim their rights as an ethnic group.

The Turkish authorities referred to those Turks who were part of the PKK as ‘children’ who needed to come to their senses and leave their terrorist lifestyle behind. Öcalan, the leader of the PKK, was often referred to by the media as a ‘baby-killer’ whose followers were ‘uncivilized.’ The Turkish government for many years tried to capture the Kurdish leader, who thanks to the Greek authorities’ support, managed to escape Turkey. It was finally in 1999 when the Turkish state captured him. Offended by Greece’s attitude towards Öcalan, the Turkish president demanded that the EU added Greece to the list of countries that supported terrorism.

Leaving aside already existing tensions between Turkey and Greece, the reason why the latter was not seen as being complicit in terrorism was that the West did not perceive the PKK as a terrorist organization per se. At that time, Western media referred to the PKK as an ‘outlawed group’, a ‘rebel group’, or one conducting ‘guerrilla war’. Even the EU itself referred to the Kurds’ cause as a minority struggle and questioned the terrorist narrative around them. Unconcerned about Western opinion, the Turkish judiciary sentenced Öcalan to the death penalty, which caused demonstrations throughout Europe in support of the Kurdish cause. The European Union was clear in its response: if Turkey were to execute Öcalan, the country will never be considered to join the European Union.

Conclusion

Building on the case study, there are two clear processes of othering. On the one hand, the Turkish state identifies the Other as the Kurds, who are subsequently labelled as terrorists. According to Turkish anti-terror legislation, terrorism is an act that threatens the territorial unity of the state, and even non-violent propaganda against said unity is considered terrorism. As it has been mentioned, the Kurds were referred to as infantile and uncivilised, which made them an illogical actor with whom there could be no dialogue, and which ultimately threatened Turkish identity.

On the other hand, at the time Öcalan was captured, the EU did not have a terrorist list until after the 9/11 attacks and did not consider the PKK as terrorists. The decision not to give the terrorist label to the PKK was very significant for the EU’s identity, as they chose to ‘other’ the Turkish government instead of the Kurds. Turkey had long been a point of debate in determining the limits of Europe as a political unit, as the EU characterised itself as a ‘rational’ actor unlike those beyond its borders, as Isin argues. Ultimately, it was the death sentence of Öcalan which set the limits of Europe’s identity.

Interestingly, in 2002, there was a turning point for the PKK terrorist debate. Turkey overturned Öcalan’s death penalty sentence and changed it to life imprisonment, while the EU added the PKK to its terrorism list. The EU’s decision was highly controversial since the PKK had not engaged in violent action since 1999 and also because the procedure for adding the PKK to the list had not been transparent. It was later condemned by the European Court of First Instance. To this day, Turkey is unlikely to join the European Union, and the PKK remains in the EU list of terrorist organisations.

Although both the EU and Turkey now recognise the PKK as the Other and labels them as terrorists, their approaches to the issue and their policies vary. The EU is concerned with preventing terrorism in the first place, which makes them interested in learning about the root causes of terrorism. Following this rationale, they invited in February of 2020 representatives of the PKK to join a European Parliament Session. Yet, because for Turkey there is no possible dialogue with terrorism, Turkish media was outraged by the meeting.

Lucía Ruiz Vila graduated with honours in International Relations from the University of Deusto in Spain and afterwards studied a year abroad in the University of Richmond in the United States. Following this, Lucía completed a MA in Conflict, Security and Development at King’s College London where she researched transitional justice, counterinsurgency campaigns, DDR and SSR, peacekeeping missions, and women’s role in security. You can connect with her via LinkedIn.

Strife Series on the Counter-Terrorism in Modern Warfare

November 13, 2020 by Joanna Lancashire

by Joanna Lancashire

A Forever War, eighteen years in the making (Image credit: Chris Hondros/Getty Images)

The changing character of modern warfare is a widely studied, if rarely defined, feature of contemporary security studies. As some of the key global conflicts that defined the end of the Cold War and the early 21st Century enter their senior years, the question of how to encapsulate in discourse the convergence of state-to-state warfare with other trends of non-state conflict remains key in an age when public opinion has little patience for extended troop deployments overseas.

War in Afghanistan, even despite the withdrawal of US and NATO troops in 2014, entered its eighteenth year in 2020. Further conflict in Iraq continues long after troops have left. Even without clear statements of ‘being at war’ in place in public discourse, global flashpoints in Mali, Yemen, Libya, and further afield continue to reopen and scar old wounds, to the detriment of progress being made in governance and development.

Often in the discourse, the changing character of warfare is spoken of in abstract terms, separated from the sum of its parts, namely, the people, structures, and trends that it impacts. It is not that the definition of war has become obsolete, but with a public discourse fixated around terrorism, the understanding of what a ‘warzone’ means has become wider than simply an understanding of the battlespace itself. Discourses on counter-terrorism have expanded to include alternative and congruent narratives of counter-extremism, preventing extremism. How these features interact with long-running ‘forever wars’ has become a critical point of study in an analysis of both conflict and post-conflict environments.

This series will explore how counter-terrorism as a discourse intersects with modern warfare. In doing so, it will touch upon the language and underpinnings that frame terrorism and extremism both in wartime, and in peace, and how these features impact the contexts in which they are found and the conflicts of which they are an integral part.

Publication Schedule

Part I: The Importance of Labels: A Social Psychology Approach to Counterterrorism Policies by Lucia Ruiz Vila

Part II: Analysing the Effectiveness of Deradicalisation Programmes As Components of Broader Counterterrorism Initiatives: A Study of Saudi Arabic and Yemen by Anahad Khangura

Part III: Strings Attached? Counter-Extremism in Humanitarian Programming by Joanna Lancashire