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The proscription of Terrorgram as a terrorist organisation in the UK: Insights from the Independent Reviewer of Terrorism Legislation

On 26 April the UK became the first country in the world to proscribe the ‘Terrorgram Collective’. From today, membership, support, or the display of articles associated with the network is now illegal and can carry a punishment of up to 14 years in prison or an unlimited fine. The listing of Terrorgram represents a novel use of the proscription power as it is the first time that an online terror network has been proscribed as a terrorist organisation in the UK under the Terrorism Act 2000. The wording of the act has been deemed sufficiently broad enough to encompass such a network, despite its “entirely fluid, online presence”.

Terrorgram is a network of neo-fascist terrorists based on the encrypted messaging app Telegram. They promote militant accelerationism, a doctrine which strives to bring about the collapse of liberal, democratic and capitalist societies, by placing pressure on and exacerbating “latent social divisions, often through violence, thus hastening societal collapse”. Terrorgram produces and disseminates violent propaganda and instructional material to encourage terrorism. This includes digital publications in the form of zines, collectively authored by individuals across the network, which stand out for their visually appealing aesthetic and graphics providing instructions for bomb-making or sabotaging critical infrastructure.

Another hallmark of Terrorgram is ‘Saints Culture’, where far-right terrorists, including the Christchurch attacker Brenton Tarrant and Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh, are glorified and worshipped as ‘Saints’ in visual propaganda. By sanctifying each new perpetrator and retroactively anointing historical white supremacist terrorists as martyrs, Terrorgram encourages the mobilisation of further attackers by community-building around the cause of ‘white terror’.

In October 2022, the first attack linked to Terrorgram took place, when Juraj Krajčík, shot and killed two and injured a third outside an LGBTQ+ bar in Bratislava, Slovakia. Krajčík addressed and thanked Terrorgram for their propaganda in his manifesto and directed readers to Terrorgram publications, praising them for “building the future of the White revolution, one publication at a time.” The Terrorgram collective responded by enthusiastically adding him to their pantheon of Saints, and anointed him as “Terrorgram’s first Saint”.

Terrorgram is the 81st group to be proscribed in the UK, and the sixth Extreme Right-Wing terrorist organisation to be listed, alongside National Action (2016), Sonnenkrieg Division and Feuerkrieg Division (2020), Atomwaffen Division/National Socialist Order and The Base (2021). The inclusion of Terrorgram showcases the ability of the proscription tool to be used against an online terrorist network and highlights how existing legislation, which has traditionally been geared towards groups and organisations, can be applied to emerging terrorist threats in a digital age to meet the challenge posed by a post-organisational terrorist landscape. I spoke to Jonathan Hall KC, the Independent Reviewer of Terrorism Legislation in the UK, about the significance of Terrorgram’s proscription:

How does the decision to proscribe an online network like the Terrorgram collective, rather than a ‘traditional’ group, reflect the evolving nature of terrorist threats in the digital age?

It strongly reflects the evolving terrorist threat in the digital age, it’s not the first predominantly online group that has been prescribed. In the UK there have been groups like Sonnenkrieg Division, Feuerkrieg Division and Atomwaffen which have a very strong online presence, but have been involved, either here or abroad, in physical acts. What is unique about Terrorgram collective is that it’s being proscribed purely because of its online content. 

It reflects the nature of the threat and the risk. Online content is just becoming more and more dangerous, persuasive, and effective. It’s capable of being exploited very effectively by tech-savvy actors and there is an emerging aspect of accelerationism, which is so actor neutral. It doesn’t matter who carries out the acts. All they want to do is to inspire someone, and that can be someone anywhere in the world. As we have seen, the Terrorgram collective’s propaganda inspired that attack in Bratislava.

How has Terrorgram met the proscription criteria?  

So, the really interesting one is the fact that it is assessed to be an organisation. If you look at the government’s explanatory memorandum to the draft statutory instrument, it talks about a ‘core leadership’, which directs the output. So, first of all, it qualifies as an organisation, which is a necessary aspect if it is going to be proscribed under UK law. Because only groups or organisations can be proscribed. You can’t proscribe an individual, you can’t proscribe content, you can only proscribe an organisation. So that was a really crucial assessment.

And then the criteria, there’s the single criteria of being ‘concerned in terrorism’. But that means, and there are two limbs of this, one is that it ‘promotes or encourages terrorism’, and that’s pretty self-explanatory. The interesting one here, is that it was also assessed that it ‘prepares for terrorism’, and this has a slightly extended meaning. It prepares by providing instructional material to other people. So, its helping other people prepare for their acts and that could be, for example, providing a manual on how to carry out a knife or weapons attack or how to build a 3D-printed gun or something of that nature. So, it’s assessed to actually be involved in facilitating other people’s attacks. 

Do you anticipate any challenges in enforcing the proscription of an online network like Terrorgram, particularly in terms of identifying and prosecuting individuals involved in its activities?

I think it depends on the facts. The government has been able to assess there is a core leadership, so it then depends on where that core leadership is located, and whether or not there is any evidence that can be used to prosecute them. So, the primary response of proscription is to find the members and prosecute them. As I say, if they are in the UK that’s possible. If they are not in the UK, it is going to be very difficult. It depends on their operational security; it depends on whether there will be any useful evidence they are responsible for the Terrorgram collective. So, there is this question of facts, is there any evidence? 

Probably, the greater dividend is the ability to say to tech companies they should remove any branded material, because this is now a UK proscribed organisation. And the fact that the UK has proscribed, is seen as a legitimate reason for removing material. It’s a step beyond the bounds of what is acceptable. So it is probably going to be used most, I mean I can’t say for sure, but as a way of disrupting its presence on the internet. 

This actually brings us to my next question. What role could the proscription of online networks play in addressing the dissemination of terrorist content, such as instructional material aimed at aiding preparation for terrorism?

Obviously, most content is going to be hosted by overseas platforms. It could be on Telegram, or it could be on a standard platform like Facebook. Now, depending on their capability, whether they have the human moderators or technical capability to identify this, you would hope that those bodies would remove it. Not because they are bound by UK law, but because they sign up to a set of standards and they are prepared to accept, from a democracy like the UK, with checks and balances, the opportunity of appeal, and the fact that it is ratified by parliament, they are prepared to accept this is something that they should remove. But to some extent, it is brokered. It is not something that is demanded by the UK.

There are obviously much smaller platforms, some of whom are just very antagonistic, either because they are obsessed with free speech, or because they are just used by terrorists, who won’t comply. And there is a problem with terrorist-operated websites, there are problems with small platforms that are hosted in jurisdictions, who don’t really feel responsible for their conduct, where it is going to be really hard. In general, proscription will provide a basis for UK and intermediate organisations like the Global Internet Foundation to Counter Terrorism and Tech Against Terrorism, which are these trade bodies, to say, “you should remove this stuff”. Whether it’s going to be removed from all the platforms will depend upon a lot of things like, where they are, if it’s encrypted, what their capability is, and what their attitude is. 

How do you assess the effectiveness of the UK’s proscription regime in adapting to the challenges posed by post-organisational terrorism, and do you have any recommendations for further enhancing its capabilities in this regard?

I’m impressed about how adaptable it’s proven to be. It does depend upon that ability to say, and if there is a challenge, to prove that there is central leadership. I had a look in one of my annual reports, I think my ‘Terrorism Acts in 2021’ report. I looked at the proscription tool and sort of posed the question, “what could you do when you can’t identify core organisation?” And I think the answer is, probably nothing using the proscription tool, without changing it beyond its intended use. 

We don’t have a tradition in the UK of making content illegal, unlike in Germany, where it is illegal to display a swastika. We make conduct illegal. With our history of Northern Irish terrorism, we’ve focused on the conduct of groups as being the most dangerous. I think it would be very odd to proscribe an individual. If you adapted to a post-organisational world, and said “well why don’t you have the ability to ban an individual?” It would be impossible to implement. You can’t commit a crime for being you, you can commit a crime for being a member of a terrorist organisation, and you can choose to leave that terrorist organisation, which would be good, but if you were to ban an individual, well they’re always going to be that individual. The framework of membership offences wouldn’t be available. The framework of giving money to a proscribed organisation also wouldn’t work, would it? Because people are allowed to have money, to receive money from the benefits system, they are allowed to pay money in shops. The framework, which said “you shouldn’t give money to or receive money from a terrorist organisation”, wouldn’t work when applied to individuals. 

And if you start banning content, first of all, it has not been our tradition, but even if it was, you would have to constantly update your database. You would have to say “we’re banning this publication, now we’re banning this publication”, which is not something you can easily keep up with. It’s something that New Zealand did in relation to the Christchurch video. And it has something that Australia has done with what they call ‘abhorrent materials’, they’ve created a special category of first-person perpetrator video. But that’s very different from the proscription methods. So I think the answer is, there is probably not much more that you can do, but it’s proven surprisingly adaptive. 

Where proscription has been used against groups that operate predominantly online or have more of an online than an offline presence, it’s been a different sort of counter-terrorism campaign. Because these groups have historically just sort of disappeared quite quickly. It has proven quite effective. If you contrast that to the groups which remain of concern, like Al-Muhajiroun, al-Qaeda, but thinking more about British-based groups, like the IRA, I mean, those have endured. That probably tells you something about the original solidity of the group. Some of these internet groups will be a bit ‘here today, gone tomorrow’. And proscription will be a way of finishing them off. 

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Influence of social network processes on radical conspiracy theories

Editor’s note: This post is part one of a two-part series that the author intends to publish over the next two months.

There is a structural tendency for extremists to uphold conspiracy theories, which is reflected in their dichotomic thinking style aimed at making sense of societal events by providing oversimplified explanations (van Prooijen et al. 2015). More specifically, “tragedies caused by extremism are rooted substantially in a tendency to be distrustful and paranoid toward groups of other-minded individuals” (Ibid), which is also a characteristic of conspiracy thinking, known as ‘us-vs.-them’ logic. In a general manner, conspiracy theories and radicalization are both fundamentally related to meaning-making processes that “may compensate for personal uncertainties by providing self-regulatory clarity, and by imbuing the world with meaning and purpose” (Ibid, 571), thus, meaning is “created in a situation of existential fragility” (Önnerfors, Steiner 2018: 33). Accordingly, conspiracy thinking may be seen as a core component of the process of radicalization into extremism.

Recent studies have been moving away “from debunking conspiracy theories towards exploring their meaning for those involved” (Harambam 2020: 280). A possible approach regards how “conspiracy theories serve as a way to express distrust and discontent with authorities, and perhaps even distrust towards society more generally” (Thórisdóttir et al. 2020: 313), showcasing how, in a more general manner, “relationships in public based automatically upon authority are in decline” (Fairclough 1995: 137).

In general, the last few decades have shown how epistemic authorities and distributions of power have changed (Lorusso 2022). More people are now able to intervene in the public sphere, feeling empowered by new media and its logics to act as reliable information sources (Ibid). In this context, the base of conspiracy narratives becomes what Mari-Liss Madisson (2014) calls ‘social trust’ – that is, the verification of these narratives transcends any reference to proven facts, but instead, they rely on other narratives to support it (Madisson 2014; Stano 2020), creating an interdependent web of conspiracy narratives.

Further, it is crucial to consider that the circulation of information – and consequently of mis/disinformation – is regulated by network processes rather than being driven by chance (Leal 2020: 499). This means that, when speaking about online communication, it is also important to consider some of the socio-technical affordances of social media and how they impact communication. Leal (2020) describes two basic processes by which online networks generally operate: “The ‘Matthew effect’ (related to centrality and power) and clustering (related to homophily and transitivity)”.

The ‘Matthew effect of accumulated advantage’ is “determinant of hierarchies in online social networks” (Leal 2020: 499), describing the emergence of interconnected hubs, actors, or nodes, whose path is “dependent and favours those who are already central, powerful and influential” (Ibid).

A couple of years ago, the Director-General of the World Health Organisation declared: “we’re not just fighting an epidemic; we’re fighting an infodemic” (WHO 2020: vii). In the face of this infodemic, the expansion of social media has reached a paradox:

The number of opinion holders and discussion platforms has multiplied to such a degree that it is quite likely that any particular posting will not be noticed by nearly anyone against the background of a general flood of information. This information overload has increased the relevance of focusers or filters of attention, which can be institutions, individual mediators (e.g. social media micro-celebrities) or algorithms (e.g. those that mark trending themes), that can bring attention to a certain topic or an event. (Madisson, Ventsel 2021: 17)

Visibility has thus become one of the most desirable resources in the landscape of online media, and yet, it largely tends to be obtained by those who are already in possession of it. Therefore,

While the scale, speed and reach are generally conceived as providing equal opportunities for communication between people and the spread of narratives, the reality shows that this horizontality is illusory. […] In social networks, especially, it is not the equal distribution of interconnections, but the fact that some nodes are more well-connected than others that makes an idea or a virus circulate faster and more efficiently. (Leal 2020: 499)

As a consequence, the “turn-of-the-century utopian dream of the internet as a space of liberation and as a birthplace of new democratic communities has vanished” (Puumeister 2020: 520). Horizontal distribution of power and equal opportunity are now illusions or lost to the past, having been replaced with the logics of algorithms, which merely increase the influence of those who already possess it. The effects of this can be seen on many spheres of human life, especially in processes of meaning-making.

Follow the continuation of this discussion (PART 2) here on the VORTEX blog, coming June 2024.

References

Fairclough, Norman. 1995. Critical Discourse Analysis: The Critical Study of Language. London: Lohgman.

Harambam, Jaron 2020. Conspiracy Theory Entrepreneurs, Movements and Individuals. In: Butter, Michael; Knight, Peter (eds.), Routledge Handbook of Conspiracy Theories. New York: Routledge, 278-291.

Leal, Hugo 2020. Networked Disinformation and The Lifecycle of Online Conspiracy Theories. In: Butter, Michael; Knight, Peter (eds.), Routledge Handbook of Conspiracy Theories. New York: Routledge, 497-511.

Lorusso, Anna M. 2022. Fake News as Discursive Genre: Between Hermetic Semiosis and Gossip. Social Epistemology37(17): 1-13, DOI: 10.1080/02691728.2021.2001604.

Madisson, Mari-Liis 2014. The Semiotic Logic of Signification of Conspiracy Theories. Semiotica 202 (2014): 273-300.

Madisson, Mari-Liis; Ventsel, Andreas 2021. Strategic Conspiracy Narratives: A Semiotic Approach. New York: Routledge.

Önnerfors, Andreas; Steiner, Kristian (2018). Expressions of Radicalization, Global Politics, Processes and Practices. London: Palgrave-Macmillan, 1507-1508.

Puumeister, Ott 2020. Conspiratorial Rationality. Sign Systems Studies, 48(2-4): 519-528.

Stano, Simona 2020. The Internet and The Spread of Conspiracy Content. In: Butter, Michael; Knight, Peter (eds.), Routledge Handbook of Conspiracy Theories. New York: Routledge. 483-496.

Thórisdóttir, Hulda; Mari, Silvia; Krouwel, André 2020. Conspiracy Theories, Political Ideology and Political Behaviour. In: Butter, Michael; Knight, Peter (eds.), Routledge Handbook of Conspiracy Theories. New York: Routledge. 304-316.

van Prooijen, Jan-Willem; Krouwel, André P.; Pollet, Thomas V. (2015). Political extremism predicts belief in conspiracy theories. Social Psychological and Personality Science, 6 (5), 570-578. DOI: 10.1177/19485506145673

WHO 2020. An ad hoc WHO technical consultation managing the COVID-19 infodemic: call for action. Geneva: World Health Organization. Licence: CC BY-NC-SA 3.0 IGO. Retrieved from: https://www.who.int/publications/i/item/9789240010314, 06.03.23.

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On Salafism: Concepts and Contexts. The book review.

Azmi Bishara’s book, On Salafism: Concepts and Contexts, takes a deep dive into Salafism, aiming to clear up some of the confusion around this important but often misunderstood tradition of Islam.[1] Bishara looks into what Salafism really means, how it has changed over time, and its impact today. The book breaks down different views within Salafism and looks at why these differences matter. Bishara’s work helps readers get a clearer picture of Salafism, making it easier to understand its role in both history and the modern world.

Bishara’s book is divided into four relatively long chapters: ‘What is Salafism?’, ‘On Apostasy’, ‘Religious Associations and Political Movements’, and ‘Wahhabism in Context’. The book lays a foundational understanding of Salafism, detailing its key concepts and their application in various contexts, thus offering a broader understanding of the ideological roots of certain jihadi movements. From the start, Bishara critically addresses the terminological confusion surrounding terms such as ‘Salafism’ and how it has evolved and been used in modern times by many Western academics and policymakers. Generally, Salafism is understood to mean exclusive adherence to the Quran, Sunna teachings, and the practices of the first three generations of Islam, while eschewing innovation. Nevertheless, as Bishara argues, the term has transformed over the years across different socio-political contexts, meaning that it has been reproduced in several forms, thereby necessitating the discussion of multiple Salafisms, as opposed to a singular Salafism. 

Bishara distinguishes between different types of Salafism, delineating a crucial distinction in contemporary Islamic thought and practice. He defines ‘conservative’ or ‘traditionalist’ Salafism, which describes the Islamic institution in Saudi Arabia, also known as Wahhabism, as an approach that legitimizes current rulers, rooted in emulating the Prophet Muhammad and his companions, along with unwavering obedience and allegiance to an imam—that is, a ruler who governs in accordance with Sharia law. Conversely, Bishara characterizes ‘revolutionary’ jihadi Salafism as a contrasting interpretation that invokes the same early Islamic figures to challenge and discredit incumbent regimes (p. 30). This type of Salafism, associated with groups like al-Qaeda and the Islamic State, often labels Muslim leaders as apostates, even if they publicly conform to Islamic precepts and hold religious titles. Another variant, often overlooked in policy discussions, is ‘Reformist Salafism,’ which, unlike other Salafi traditions, calls for a return to Islam’s roots not for imitation but for inspiration from early teachings when addressing contemporary issues (p. 15). This distinction is vital not only for academic clarification but also for formulating effective policies to address the phenomenon.

Chapter two engages with one of the most fundamental and consequential concepts in Islam, namely takfir or apostasy.[2]Building on the arguments presented in the first chapter about the heterogeneity of Salafism, Bishara demonstrates that not only do different strands of Salafism apply various methods to excommunicate others and legitimize violence against them, but even within a particular strand of Salafism, there exist contradictions on how to apply the concept. In theory, Salafi doctrine identifies ignorance, coercion, and unintentional errors as protective against declarations of infidelity among Muslims; however, Bishara points out that there is considerable contention within ‘revolutionary’ jihadi Salafism regarding this, particularly the interpretation of ignorance, as evidenced by al-Qaeda’s position against excommunicating ordinary Shi’a due to religious ignorance, contrasting with its Iraqi affiliate’s refusal of this stance, resulting in widespread violence against the Shi’a community. (P

The third chapter explores the various strands of Salafism and how they are shaped by different socio-political contexts and sometimes unintended intellectual borrowings from other radical groups, both Islamist and secular. Bishara challenges the Salafi narrative of a continuous ideological lineage from their intellectual ancestors, such as Ahmad Ibn Hanbal (780–855 CE), Ibn Taymiyya (1263–1328 CE), and Muhammad Ibn Abd al-Wahhab (1703–1792), noting that followers and ideologues have historically reinterpreted the teachings of these figures, and often and reproduced a much radical version of their work (p. 64). This observation counters orientalist views on the static nature of not just Salafism but also Islam as a ‘discursive tradition,’ as Talal Asad describes. It also disputes claims that contemporary Salafism is merely a revivalist movement, arguing instead that Islamist movements arising in the modern context of nation-states and modernization are indeed contemporary, addressing current issues through historical lenses, yet remain distinctly modern. (p. 79)

The final chapter scrutinizes Wahhabism as a version of Salafism derived from the intellectual synergy between Ahmad Ibn Hanbal (780–855 CE) and Muhammad Ibn Abd al-Wahhab (1703–1792). Significantly, Bishara demostarte the reasons behind the successful expansion of Abd al-Wahhab’s initially marginal religious call, which came to dominate and represent Saudi Arabia’s religious establishment. He attributes this success to the political alliance between the Saudi rulers of the time and Muhammad Ibn Abd al-Wahhab, which empowered the latter to spread his teachings, and to the weakness of religious institutions and traditions in Saudi Arabia’s rural areas, enabling such teachings to thrive (P.127). This sociological analysis offers a more nuanced comprehension of the interplay between religion and society, acknowledging the role of religious belief while also considering a spectrum of additional factors.

The book is conceptually rich and crucial for scholars of Salafism and jihadism. Yet, it would benefit from additional citations, particularly for minor arguments made by the author. Despite this, its insightful analysis and depth of knowledge make it a valuable contribution to the field.


[1] Bishara, Azmi. 2022. On Salafism: Concepts and Contexts. Stanford: Stanford University Press.

[2] In jihadism literature, the term ‘apostasy’ is frequently translated as ‘excommunication’ to provide a more precise and contextually relevant meaning within Islamic doctrinal discussions. While apostasy typically describes the act of abandoning Islam, excommunication denotes the process through which jihadis legitimize violence against individuals they consider to be excommunicated.

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The ‘terrorist’ label: the implications of (not) calling extreme right-wing violence terrorism

Alexandre Bissonnette – who shot and killed 6 people in a Quebec City Mosque in 2019 – was not charged with terrorism offences, despite his attack being described as ‘terrorist’ by both Prime Minster Justin Trudeau and the Quebec Premier[i]. Neither was Dylann Roof, the white supremacist who killed 9 African Americans in a Charleston, South Carolina Church[ii]. In Canada, between 2001 and 2019, 56 individuals were charged under terrorism legislation but not one was associated with extreme right-wing (ERW) ideology, despite it being behind more deaths than Islamist extremism[iii]. In Portugal, none of the 5 terrorism convictions to date have been linked to ERW ideology, despite a ‘not insignificant’[iv] number of crimes caused by it. Similar trends have been identified in the US, Germany and Spain[v].

Why is there such ‘penal selectivity’[vi] when it comes to criminalising ERW violence, in comparison to, for example, Islamist extremist or ethnonationalist separatist violence? Some scholars[vii] have pointed to legal complexities that make it challenging and resource-intensive to prove terrorist intent in comparison to the evidence requirements for more ‘ordinary’ crimes such as murder. This doesn’t, however, account for the disparity between treatment of ERW and other forms of violence. Others look to Donald Black’s[viii] idea of the ‘behaviour of law’ which posits that the operation of law is ‘directly proportional to social status, inequality and social distance between authorities and offenders’[ix], while more critical approaches[x] see counterterrorism as having racialised – usually Islamophobic – foundations. Based on these two theories, the widespread institutionalisation of white dominance[xi], and unconscious cognitive biases amongst legal personnel[xii], would influence decision-making across the criminal justice system.

Terrorism-related sentences often don’t exceed those for murder or hate crimes[xiii]. Nonetheless, scholars have pointed to the ’expressive function of law’[xiv] and the ’performative power of counterterrorism’[xv] to argue that legislative decisions can have discursive and symbolic impacts that extend beyond the nature and length of the punishment itself. Daniel Koehler[xvi], for example, has suggested that not labelling ERW violence as terrorism could a) make its victims feel that they are ’second-class victims’, b) create a distorted public perception of what ’terrorism’ is, and c) impact official terrorism statistics and, by extension, the formation of counterterrorism policy. He continues that under-classifying ERW violence risks creating the impression amongst its victims that states are ’blind on the right side’, thereby undermining public trust in both the monopoly of force and the rule of law[xvii].

Such arguments have led several scholars[xviii] to advocate for improved consistency when it comes to the application of the ’terrorist’ label in the legislative arena. Criminalising ERW violence under terrorism legislation could establish its policy relevance, improve government accountability, encourage better distribution of counterterrorism resources, delegitimise racism, stimulate more balanced media coverage, encourage early prevention and motivate tech companies to more proactively remove ERW social media content[xix]. Others have, however, pointed to both the limitations and potential harms of using terrorism legislation to counter ERW violence.  The proscription of ERW groups, for example, may simply lead actors to other forms of political activism that are harder to do away with[xx], while the increased ’securitisation’ of ERW actors could lead to a ’backlash’ in the form of increased violence[xxi]. Indeed, as Jacob Aasland Ravndal[xxii] suggests, ‘while repression and stigmatisation may discourage some people from joining radical and extreme right groups, they may also push some of the most ardent activists onto more clandestine and revolutionary paths, ultimately leading to violence and terrorism’.

Such critiques raise important questions about the wisdom of extending often ineffective, counterproductive and even damaging counterterrorism measures to target even more citizens. Calls to securitise ERW violence, for example, could lead to an expansion of policing and legitimisation of surveillance which may ultimately target communities of colour disproportionately[xxiii]. Like counterterrorism policies past, securitising ERW violence could create more ’suspect communities’ of, for example, young people, or reinforce existing ones. As one Muslim activist[xxiv] has argued, ’when politicians and the media call on us to take white violence as seriously as violence perpetrated by Muslims, they actually reinforce the trope of Muslims as terrorists, injecting Muslims into a discussion that should have nothing to do with them’. Furthermore, because ERW actors are often ’lone wolves’ radicalised online, some countries are increasingly, pre-emptively criminalising non-violent acts that take place in the online sphere, such as viewing terrorist-related content, in a move that risks ’chilling effects’ on freedom of speech, journalistic enquiry, academic freedoms and public debate[xxv]. This increased policing of non-violent extremism is one symptom of what Richard Jackson has described as the ’epistemological crisis of counterterrorism’ characterised by a ‘particular paranoid logic’ whereby security officials increasingly engage in the ‘contemplation of nightmares rather than identifiable social, political and climatological realities’[xxvi].

Following these critiques of counterterrorism practices more broadly, Lee Jarvis[xxvii] has thus advocated for the ’desecuritisation’ of ERW violence. Such an approach, he argues, could reduce alarmism and provide reassurance to those feeling threatened by ERW violence , provide opportunities for better engagement with ERW groups and individuals and facilitate a shift in emphasis towards more ’pressing‘ public policy concerns, such as education, healthcare and the environment[xxviii]. He does concede, however, that such an approach risks being seen as ‘diminishing the insecurities’ of those at risk of ERW violence, and ‘may not satisfy those committed to a more emancipatory ethic’ in critical terrorism studies[xxix].

We stand at a critical juncture in the evolution of counterterrorism policy and practice, at which decisions need to be made about how best to respond to ERW violence. It’s a juncture that provides a valuable opportunity to take stock of existing counterterrorism frameworks and to think critically about their usefulness in responding, not only to ERW violence, but to all forms of ‘terrorism’. As this article has attempted to demonstrate, the implications of labelling (or not labelling) ERW violence as ‘terrorism’ are manifold and complex. Nonetheless, it is paramount that they receive sufficient consideration if we are to avoid similar mistakes to the counterterrorism measures of yesteryear.  


[i] Nesbitt, M. (2021); Violent crime, hate speech or  terrorism? How Canada views  and prosecutes far-right  extremism (2001–2019), Common Law World Review, Vol 50(1) 38–56

[ii] Norris, J. (2017); WHY DYLANN ROOF IS A TERRORIST UNDER  FEDERAL LAW, AND WHY IT MATTERS, Harvard Journal on Legislation, Vol. 54: 501–541.

[iii] Nesbitt (2021)

[iv] da Silva, R., Paulo Ventura, J., Moreira de Carvalho, C. & Reis Barbosa, M. (2022): “From street soldiers to political soldiers”:  assessing how extreme right violence has been criminalised in Portugal, Critical Studies on Terrorism, 15:1, 102-120

[v] See Norris (2017); Koehler, D. (2019): Violence and Terrorism from the Far Right: Policy Options to Counter an   Elusive Threat, ICCT Policy Brief; Fernández de Mosteyrín, L. & Martini, A. (2022): Meaning and context in analysing extremism:  the banalisation of the far-right in Spanish public  controversies, Critical Studies on Terrorism, 15:1, 38-60

[vi] da Silva et al (2022)

[vii] Koehler (2019)

[viii] Black, D. (2010): The Behavior of Law. Bingly, UK: Emerald Group Publishing.

[ix] Black (2010), quoted in Norris, J. (2010): When (and where) can right-wing terrorists be  charged with terrorism?, Critical Studies on Terrorism, 13:4, 519-544

[x] Corbin, C. M. (2017): Terrorists are Always Muslim but Never White: At the Intersection of Critical Race   Theory and Propaganda, Fordham L. Rev. 86: 455–485.

[xi] Meier, AA. (2022): Terror as justice, justice as terror:  counterterrorism and anti-Black racism in the  United States, Critical Studies on Terrorism, 15:1, 83-101

[xii] Corbin (2017)

[xiii] Koehler (2019)

[xiv] Sunstein, C. R. (1996): On the Expressive Function of Law, University of Pennsylvania Law Review 144  (5): 2021–2053.

[xv] de Graaf, B. (2011): Evaluating Counterterrorism Performance: A comparative study. Oxford/New York: Routledge

[xvi] Koehler (2019)

[xvii] Koehler (2019: 1)

[xviii] See Koehler (2019); Norris (2017); da Silva et al (2022); Byman, D. (2018): When to Call a Terrorist a Terrorist,  Foreign Policy, Oct. 27. https://foreignpolicy.com/2018/10/27/when-to-call-a-terrorist-a-terrorist/

[xix] Norris (2017); Byman (2018)

[xx] da Silva et al (2022)

[xxi] Argomaniz, J. & Vidal Diez, A. (2015): Examining Deterrence and Backlash Effects  in Counter-Terrorism: The Case of ETA, Terrorism and Political Violence, 27:160–181,

[xxii] Aasland Ravndal, J. (2018: 859): Explaining right-wing terrorism and violence in Western Europe: Grievances,  opportunities and polarisationEuropean Journal of Political Research 57: 845–866,

[xxiii] Zerkel, M. (2021): Why We Should Rethink Calling White Supremacist Violence ‘Terrorism’. https://www.afsc.org/blogs/news-and-commentary/problem-labeling-violence-domestic-terrorism 

[xxiv] Maha Hilal, quoted in Zerkel (2021): n.p.

[xxv] Zedner, L. (2021): Countering Terrorism or Criminalizing Curiosity? The Troubled History of UK Responses to Right-wing and Other Extremism, Common Law World Review 50: 57–75.

[xxvi] Ghamari-Tabrizi (2006: 22), quoted in Jackson, R. (2015: 33): The epistemological crisis of counterterrorism, Critical Studies on Terrorism, 8:1, 33-54. 

[xxvii] Jarvis, L. (2022): Critical terrorism studies and the far-right: beyond problems and solutions?, Critical Studies on Terrorism, 15:1, 13-37.

[xxviii] Jarvis (2022)

[xxix] Jarvis (2022: 30)

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Collusion postponed? (De)radicalizing center-right and the brief overview of the ongoing Dutch coalition talks

The ever-increasing practice of mainstream political parties employing radical-right ideas is not a secret (Mudde, 2023). While these ideas were usually associated with parties located in the far-right of the political spectrum, they are currently becoming a part of mainstream party programs as well, and the once go-to practice of ‘cordon sanitaire’ increasingly becomes a history (Abou-Chadi et al., 2022; Hublet et al., 2023). As a result, we see an increasing number of European countries where center-right and far-right political parties end up in a coalition government, such as Austria, Finland, Italy, and Sweden. 

A similar scenario may unfold in the Netherlands in light of the groundbreaking snap elections held last November. The far-right PVV, led by Geert Wilders, has become the biggest party in the Netherlands for the first time, grabbing 37 seats and around a quarter of the vote share (Schaart, 2023). The electoral strategy employed by the mainstream center-right evolved into a primary prerequisite for such a result. Since the Rutte IV cabinet collapsed over the family reunification policy for asylum seekers, immigration became the central electoral issue. 

While VVD, a party that dominated Dutch politics over the last decade, heavily campaigned on tightening immigration and opened the door for PVV as a potential coalition partner, it could not avoid losing a part of its electorate to PVV. Theoretical works on party competition outline that mainstream parties usually lose support to niche parties when they compete over issues owned by the niche party (Meguid, 2008). It seems to be the case in the Dutch elections as well, where parties went into long periods of talks in ways to find a viable governing coalition. 

As of today, the potential coalition consists of VVD (mainstream center-right), NSC (a breakaway center-right), BBB (right-wing), and PVV (far-right). A notable development throughout the campaign period and later during the coalition talks is the way the center-right tries to navigate in these waters. On the one hand, VVD leader Dilan Yeşilgöz appeared more radical in the pre-Election period but toned down in the aftermath and refused the possibility of Wilders becoming the PM. On the other hand, NSC, which consistently ruled out a coalition with PVV with the rule of law concerns, shifted to a more moderate tone after the exit poll results.

It mirrors a general trend of center-right parties’ inability to fully utilize radical-right ideas as they face “ideological consistency and credibility” problems (Abou-Chadi et al., 2022). As a matter of fact, VVD experienced a rift within its ranks precisely on immigration, where prominent party members in the Senate voted for the law that would evenly distribute asylum seekers among Dutch municipalities (Hartog, 2024). Furthermore, the NSC quit talks in early February by citing disagreements over financial policies (Camut, 2024). One should note that both parties were still ready to provide confidence and supply to the PVV-led minority cabinet without direct participation. 

In the latest turn of events, Wilders announced that he would not seek a PM post as it is a precondition for continuing talks by the rest of the potential coalition partners (Wilders, 2024). However, this does not change anything essentially since the overall trend remains concerning. Regardless of how parties behave and whether they try to (de)radicalize in their rhetoric or policy choices, the Dutch case is yet another example of how center-right radicalization in electoral campaigning merely leads to the normalization of radical-right policy ideas. 

The ambiguity in center-right behavior and their consequent efforts to decouple from far-right is of no use, with PVV polling even higher now, potentially getting a third of all seats if elections were held today (unlike the quarter of all seats that they got in November). With fractured center-right trying to sit on both chairs, surging far-right, and the unprecedented debates around the Dutch constitution and the rule of law, the future of the Dutch democracy seems grim, with coalition talks having no visible outcome, at least in the foreseeable future.

References

Abou-Chadi, T., Cohen, D., & Wagner, M. (2022). The centre-right versus the radical right: the role of migration issues and economic grievances. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies48(2), 366-384.

Camut, N. (2024, February 6). Geert Wilders left stranded as Dutch coalition talks collapse. POLITICO. 

Hartog, E. (2024, January 25) Geert Wilders has a serious problem, POLITICO.

Hublet, F., Lanoë, M., Schleyer, J. (2023). Spelling out the European center-right’s dilemma: renewal of the grand coalition or national-conservative alliance? Groupe d’Études Géopolitiques.

Meguid, B. M. (2008). Party competition between unequals. Cambridge University Press.

Mudde, C. (2023). Right-Wing Studies: A Roundtable on the State of the Field. Journal of Right-Wing Studies1(1). 

Schaart, E., Haeck, P., & Vela, J. H. (2023, November 23). Far-right leader Geert Wilders wins Dutch election. POLITICO. 

Wilders, G. (2024, March 13). Ik kan alleen premier worden als alle partijen in De Coalitie Dat Steunen. DAT was Niet Zo. Ik wil graag een rechts kabinet. Minder ASIEL EN IMMIGRATIE. Nederlanders OP 1. De Liefde voor mijn land en kiezer is groot en belangrijker dan mijn eigen positie. X. 

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On the challenges of evaluating efforts to prevent a causally complex phenomenon such as violent extremism

Prevention is a concept aimed at thwarting events that would have otherwise occurred. It serves as a proactive measure, rooted in assumptions ranging from mere speculation to substantiated assertions, regarding the likelihood of an undesirable event. Such an event can be, for example, an act of violent extremism, as the frequently used abbreviation ‘PVE’ for ‘preventing violent extremism’ shows. However, when such notions translate into practical interventions, they can encounter legitimacy issues, particularly due to the potential for adverse outcomes, including feelings of stigmatization.

Perhaps this is why some scholars prefer the term ‘countering violent extremism’, abbreviated as ‘CVE’, as it inherently acknowledges the presence of a threat that requires proactive measures to mitigate. However, even within this framework, it is challenging to completely divorce oneself from the preventive notion. For instance, one definition of CVE describes it as ‘a broad spectrum of non-coercive and preventative initiatives aimed at addressing the root causes of violent extremism in specific locations where programmes are implemented’ (Khalil and Zeuthen 2016, 4).

‘P/CVE’, preventing and countering violent extremism, lastly, is a term frequently used to deliberately combine both the preventive and the combative aspect. Some definitions of P/CVE even distinguish between prevention and intervention, understanding it as a spectrum of non-coercive individual upstream preventative or interventional actions applied at the individual, relational, group or societal level, challenging various push and pull factors of recruitment and mobilisation for violent extremism (Pistone et al. 2019, 3; Zeiger and Aly 2015, 1).

These conceptual disagreements point to conceptual uncertainties regarding what preventive measures in the field of extremism prevention entail and where the boundaries of this concept lie. A variety of measures can fall under all three of these banners – even under multiple. Gielen (2019, 5), for example, writes regarding CVE, that it represents a ‘catchphrase for a policy spectrum varying from early prevention and safeguarding measures for society, groups, and communities to very targeted measures for violent extremists such as de-radicalisation and disengagement programmes’. To avoid measures being labelled as PVE, CVE, or P/CVE, while actually being stigmatising or encroaching excessively on individual liberties, it is imperative to assess whether they effectively achieve their intended objectives. Through scientific scrutiny, evaluation determines whether a measure is efficacious, efficient, and relevant, thereby enabling critical appraisal of its justification or the need for modification or abolition due to inefficiency or unjustified adverse effects. However, evaluation is fraught with challenges, primarily due to the highly complex and context-dependent nature of the phenomena being addressed.

Challenges in evaluating measures to prevent and/or counter violent extremism

Every journey in and out of violent extremism is a very individual one. The terms ‘key drivers of violent extremism’ or ‘push and pull factors of recruitment and mobilisation’, as mentioned in the earlier definitions, represent merely aggregated factors. What holds true for one individual may not resonate with another. In addition, there is usually not just one mechanism at play, but a complex and individual interplay of mechanisms. While one intervention may prove effective for person A only when paired with another, person B might require an entirely different approach to achieve similar outcomes. Crucially, the determinants of these journeys may extend beyond the realm of P/CVE efforts and could even be tied to contextual factors only.

The inherent complexity of causality begs the question: is it feasible to define what a ‘successful’ intervention is? One may be inclined to take ‘non-radicalisation’ of clients as an objective of a measure aimed to halt ongoing radicalisation. Yet, it remains unclear how this may individually manifest. How does one quantify the absence of an event and accommodate the deeply individualised pathways that lead both to the event and its absence (Baruch et al.2018, 478)? Moreover, it must be acknowledged that interventions may only yield the desired impact when employed in intricate combinations due to the multifaceted nature of the underlying mechanisms.

The causal complexity surrounding the effectiveness of measures to prevent and counter violent extremism and making evaluation challenging hence stems from the inability to isolate their effects (Bjørgo 2016, 245), and the profoundly individualistic pathways to ‘success’, a term subject to diverse interpretations. Moreover, two additional factors further compound this complexity. Firstly, these individualised processes are often largely invisible, given that extremism exhibits both latent and manifest characteristics (Hirschi and Widmer 2012, 172). Secondly, certain effects may only manifest in the long term, contrasting with the typically short-term nature of evaluations conducted shortly after project completion. As highlighted by Mattei and Zeiger (2018, 3), ‘outcomes develop over long time and the effects are not seen immediately or within a program management cycle’. This temporal gap exacerbates the complexity of the interconnected factors: the longer the duration before an alleged effect of a prevention mechanism becomes evident or measurable, the greater the likelihood that it has arisen from the contribution of numerous other factors, or possibly solely from these.

Another problem is of a methodological nature. In evaluation research, experimental evaluation methods are considered the gold standard for determining causalities. In such methods, an intervention is administered to one group while withheld from a control group, allowing for the measurement of the causal effect of the intervention while controlling for other factors. However, applying this approach in the P/CVE field is ethically untenable, given the sensitive nature of the interventions. Additionally, creating laboratory-like conditions is impractical in real-world settings: ‘Most research on CVE is performed in real-world context on real-world subjects who are not amenable to random assignment into groups’ (Braddock 2020, 11). Quasi-experimental methods, such as before-and-after testing of the same group, offer potential alternatives. However, both experimental and quasi-experimental methods fall short in capturing causal complexity. To address this complexity, methods such as qualitative comparative analysis or process tracing are required. Surprisingly, these methods have not yet been extensively employed in evaluating P/CVE measures.

Lastly, even if considerable thought and determination has gone into evaluating a P/CVE project, the question of replicability arises. As noted by Tore Bjørgo (2016, 241), ‘it is not as simple as saying that if a measure has produced good effects somewhere else then it will also work here’. This makes it difficult, for example, to use the results of individual evaluations as proof of the universal effectiveness of a measure: In a different context, things may be different again.

Ways forward

In a recent policy brief, Amy Gielen and Aileen van Leeuwen (2023, 2) provide guidance on addressing such dilemmas, highlighting that a ‘web of assumptions often obstructs the full integration and utilisation of monitoring and evaluation’. According to them, it could help to formulate a ‘Theory of Change’ at the beginning of an evaluation, i.e. ‘to map out the logical pathways through which interventions are expected to lead to positive results’ (Ibid., 4) and to formulate so-called SMART indicators that are Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, and Time-bound (Gielen 2020). Similarly, Hirschi and Widmer (2012, 177) suggest resolving ambiguity regarding terminology by establishing central definitions in collaboration with stakeholders at the outset of an evaluation.

To address the challenge of determining isolated causal factors, Gielen and van Leeuwen (2023) advocate for adopting a ‘contributory understanding for assessing an intervention’s impact’. This approach focuses not on determining whether an intervention has caused an outcome, but rather on assessing the extent and manner of its contribution to the outcome. Methodological tools such as contribution analysis, outcome harvesting, most-significant change analysis, or process tracing (cf. Holmer, Sutherland, and Wallner 2023) are recommended for this purpose. Additionally, the authors suggest leveraging existing indicator databases (e.g., the UNDP’s PVE Indicator Bank) or measurement tools (cf. Barrelle 2015) to derive inspiration for developing indicators. Another solution to address the causal complexity of mechanisms for preventing and countering violent extremism could be the analytical method of qualitative comparative analysis (QCA). Since this discussion would exceed the scope of this blog post, there will be another blog post dedicated to this topic.

The strategies proposed by Gielen and van Leeuwen (2023) and all other possible approaches to dealing with the causal complexity inherent in measures for the prevention and combatting of violent extremism, which make their evaluation so challenging, are no panacea. However, similar to numerous other guidebooks and toolkits developed on this subject in recent years (e.g., Holmer, Sutherland, and Wallner 2023; INDEED 2023), they serve a crucial purpose: mitigating the hesitancy of practitioners implementing such measures and policymakers funding them to subject them to evaluation. The absence of monitoring or evaluation, or the failure to utilise their results under the pretext of impossibility, undermines the legitimacy of these measures. Failing to undertake evaluation leaves the door wide open for P/CVE measures that may not achieve their intended goals and could even result in harmful consequences. Thus, to enhance the quality of prevention practices and effectively delineate the boundaries of measures falling under the realms of PVE, CVE, and P/CVE, it is imperative to confront the inherent causal complexity of these interventions.

Sources

Barrelle, Kate. 2015. ‘Pro-Integration: Disengagement from and Life after Extremism’. Behavioral Sciences of Terrorism and Political Aggression 7 (2): 129–42. https://doi.org/10.1080/19434472.2014.988165.

Baruch, Ben, Tom Ling, Rich Warnes, and Joanna Hofman. 2018. ‘Evaluation in an Emerging Field: Developing a Measurement Framework for the Field of Counter-Violent-Extremism’. Evaluation 24 (4): 475–95. https://doi.org/10.1177/1356389018803218.

Bjørgo, Tore. 2016. Preventing Crime. A Holistic Approach. New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Braddock, Kurt. 2020. ‘Experimentation and Quasi-Experimentation in Countering Violent Extremism: Directions of Future Inquiry’. Researching Violent Extremism Series. Resolve Network.

Gielen, Amy-Jane. 2019. ‘Countering Violent Extremism: A Realist Review for Assessing What Works, for Whom, in What Circumstances, and How?’ Terrorism and Political Violence 31 (6): 1149–67. https://doi.org/10.1080/09546553.2017.1313736.

———. 2020. Cutting Trhough Complexity: Evaluating Countering Violent Extremism (CVE). Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press.

Gielen, Amy-Jane, and Aileen van Leeuwen. 2023. ‘Debunking Prevailing Assumptions About Monitoring and Evaluation for P/CVE Programmes and Policies’. ICCT Policy Brief. International Centre for Counter-Terrorism. https://doi.org/10.19165/2023.2.08.

Hirschi, Christian, and Thomas Widmer. 2012. ‘Approaches and Challenges in Evaluating Measures Taken against Right-Wing Extremism’. Evaluation and Program Planning 35 (1): 171–79. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.evalprogplan.2010.11.003.

Holmer, Georgia, Ann Sutherland, and Claudia Wallner. 2023. ‘Compendium of Good Practices. Measuring Results in Counter-Terrorism and Preventing and Countering Violent Extremism’. European Commission, FPI, DG INTPA; UNOCT, UNODC, Hedayah, GCERF. https://www.un.org/counterterrorism/sites/www.un.org.counterterrorism/files/eu_un_compendium_good_practice_web.pdf.

INDEED. 2023. ‘About INDEED’. 2023. https://www.indeedproject.eu/.

Khalil, James, and Martine Zeuthen. 2016. ‘Countering Violent Extremism and Risk Reduction: A Guide to Programme Design and Evaluation’. Whitehall Report 2-16. London: Royal United Services Institute. https://static.rusi.org/20160608_cve_and_rr.combined.online4.pdf.

Mattei, Cristina, and Sara Zeiger. 2018. ‘Evaluate Your CVE Results. Projecting Your Impact’. Hedayah.

Pistone, Isabella, Erik Eriksson, Ulrika Beckman, Christer Mattson, and Morten Sager. 2019. ‘A Scoping Review of Interventions for Preventing and Countering Violent Extremism: Current Status and Implications for Future Research’. Journal for Deradicalization 19: 1–84. Zeiger, Sara, and Anne Aly. 2015. Countering Violent Extremism: Developing an Evidence-Base for Policy and Practice. Perth: Curtin University. https://nwc.ndu.edu/Portals/71/Images/Publications/Family_Counselling_De_radicalization_and.pdf?ver=POmMmM26j53jLqNg1o71wA%3D%3D

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Silencing or Strengthening? The Ongoing Debate Over Deplatforming Extremists 

Deplatforming involves permanently removing controversial figures from social media sites to reduce the spread of harmful or offensive content. This approach has been increasingly adopted by platforms like Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube, targeting numerous high-profile influencers (Jhaver et al., 2021). Despite its intentions, the effectiveness of deplatforming remains hotly debated, particularly after Twitter’s 2016 ban of several alt-right accounts led to a surge in users on Gab, known for its lax moderation and as a ‘free speech’ alternative to Twitter (Rogers, 2020). Among its new users were figures like Robert Bowers, the perpetrator of the 2018 Pittsburgh synagogue shooting, and Milo Yiannopoulos, a right-wing provocateur banned from Twitter for targeted harassment. Additionally, many extremists have migrated to Telegram, which offers secure messaging and has been criticized for its lenient stance on extremist content, thereby allowing such material to persist longer than it might on more mainstream platforms (Shehabat et al., 2017). Telegram’s features, such as public channels and private chats, make it a potent tool for extremist groups, enabling them to broadcast to followers and organize through secure chats. Notably, the platform’s confidence in its security measures led it to offer a $300,000 prize twice to anyone who could break its encryption (Weimann, 2016).

This backdrop sets the stage for a broader critique. Critics point out that deplatforming simply relocates extremists to other online spaces, thus passing the problem elsewhere and potentially strengthening the convictions and distrust of their followers towards society and mainstream information sources (Rogers, 2020). Another significant concern is the role of social media companies as arbiters of speech. By assuming the power to deplatform, these companies take on a quasi-judicial role in determining what speech is acceptable. This raises questions about the concentration of power in the hands of private entities, the potential for biased enforcement of rules, and the impact on freedom of expression and democratic discourse. The fear is that such power could be misused to silence legitimate dissent or favor certain political viewpoints. Critics also argue that deplatforming may inadvertently draw more attention to the suppressed content, a phenomenon known as the Streisand Effect. This term stems from a 2003 incident when Barbra Streisand unsuccessfully sued photographer Kenneth Adelman and Pictopia.com for privacy violation over an aerial photograph of her house, leading to vastly increased public interest in the photo.

In contrast, supporters argue that deplatforming cleanses online spaces and limits the reach of extremist content creators. While these individuals can easily find alternative online spaces to share their ideologies, their overall impact is arguably reduced on less popular platforms. Indeed, several studies confirm the effectiveness of deplatforming. For instance, the one conducted by Jhaver et al. (2021), suggests that deplatforming can decrease activity levels and toxicity among supporters of deplatformed figures. In another study (Rogers, 2020) it was observed that banned celebrities who migrated to Telegram experienced reduced audience engagement and milder language. Conversely, Ali and colleagues (2021), who analyzed accounts on Gab suspended from Twitter and Reddit, noted increased activity and toxicity but, in line with other studies, a decrease in potential audience size.

Given these mixed outcomes, there’s a clear need for further research to assess deplatforming’s effectiveness comprehensively. A systematic analysis across various platforms could provide a clearer understanding of deplatforming’s consequences, informing future strategies for managing online extremism.

Ali, S., Saeed, M. H., Aldreabi, E., Blackburn, J., De Cristofaro, E., Zannettou, S., & Stringhini, G. (2021, 2021). Understanding the effect of deplatforming on social networks.

Jhaver, S., Boylston, C., Yang, D., & Bruckman, A. (2021). Evaluating the effectiveness of deplatforming as a moderation strategy on Twitter. Proceedings of the ACM on Human-Computer Interaction, 5(CSCW2), 1-30.

Rogers, R. (2020). Deplatforming: Following extreme Internet celebrities to Telegram and alternative social media. European Journal of Communication, 35(3), 213-229.

Shehabat, A., Mitew, T., & Alzoubi, Y. (2017). Encrypted jihad: Investigating the role of Telegram App in lone wolf attacks in the West. Journal of strategic security, 10(3), 27-53.

Weimann, G. (2016). Terrorist migration to the dark web. Perspectives on Terrorism, 10(3), 40-44.

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What Do We Mean When Speaking about “Radicalization”? – Reflections on the Use of a Contested Term

Radicalization, terrorism and extremism are central keywords that can be associated with the projects within the VORTEX network. They are also reflected in the title “Coping with Varieties of Radicalization into Terrorism and Extremism” that makes up the acronym VORTEX. However, these terms are often used interchangeably, leading to a somewhat blurred understanding. While one might expect such terms to be distinctly defined in scientific discourse and prevention practice, even experts exhibit varying interpretations and definitions. Disagreement on the definitions is not restricted to this realm, but can be observed for many other notions and concepts in the social sciences. This lack of consensus is not for want of trying, but rather a reflection of the inherent complexity of these issues. Nevertheless, discussions about such core concepts are essential as they shape and reproduce political, practical as well as empirical approaches. 

Divergences regarding appropriate attributions of terms often stem from ideological or political considerations, notably evident in discussions surrounding protest movements. Climate activists and the current farmer protests in Europe provide a contemporary example. Besides the well-known Friday protests by the Fridays For Future movement, various other climate movements and forms of protest have emerged globally, among which the Last Generation in Germany and Austria. Their actions mainly comprise peaceful blockages of roads by gluing their hands to the street to stop automobile locomotion in order to foster actions against climate change. Traffic blockades as a form of climate activism can be observed in various European countries like the Netherlands or Norway. Furthermore, this mode of protest has been employed in other spheres, as seen in the recent farmer protests in France or Germany, where processions of agricultural tractors were utilized to obstruct traffic, advocating for reforms.

Although their means of action could be considered similar, their perception as well as the success of their demands was not. In this regard, the Last Generation’s activism in Germany has been particularly unpopular to the extent that they have been suspected of being a criminal organization. Moreover, they have been referred to as ‘climate terrorists’ or ‘Climate-RAF’. The latter draws a link to the Red Army Fraction which murdered prominent political and business figures from 1970 to 1990 in Germany, thereby suggesting a violent development of the movement. Linking yet peaceful forms of protest to terrorism, radicalization or extremism is often employed to delegitimate actions and consequently depreciate (political) adversaries. At the same time, it also serves to legitimize actions comprising far-reaching countermeasures, giving rise to securitization approaches in countering radicalization.

This is due to the common negative connotation inherent to radicalization, extremism and terrorism alike. Thus, suggesting that these concepts are (implicitly) assumed to be consecutive. Meaning that radicalization is at least implicitly understood as a unidirectional process of radicalization into terrorism or violent extremism. Although the title of the doctoral network could be read in a similar manner, it points to varieties of radicalization as processes of radicalization that are distinct and dynamic in nature. On one hand, radicalization processes do not necessarily stagnate once exhibiting violent behavior but might rather continue by implementing more and more violent actions. This is a factor that warrants consideration in planning prevention programs.

On the other hand, radicalization may occur on an ideological level without ever becoming violent. In such cases, possibilities for intervention in primary prevention are often overlooked. Nevertheless, radicalization cannot be considered as inherently dangerous in these cases. Reflecting on current norms also provides potential for emancipatory transformations. A compelling example is that of the women’s movement beginning in the 18th century. In many parts of the world, women’s access to political participation was limited. It was assumed that representing political opinions was designated exclusively for men. However, these conditions eventually were challenged, making way for equal rights demands by many women’s rights movements. What was considered radical at the time, has developed into a norm of democratic societies – women’s right to vote. Thus, radicalization must bear ambivalences that contradict a definite negative connotation.

Nevertheless, underlying assumptions regarding radicalization are crucial not only in how the term is understood but also in how it is employed. Since the above-mentioned differentiations are often undermined also in research practice, some scholars have reservations engaging with the term ‘radicalization’. Concerns about contributing and lending legitimacy to societal securitization have been voiced. Therefore, raising the question of how to proceed with such a contested term that shows lack of conceptual clarity and consistency. This blog post argues for a broad conceptualization of radicalization that provides the opportunity to acknowledge its inherent ambivalences as well as manifold processes, including and recognizing violent as well as non-violent processes. This critical, context-related approach is also a common thread that connects research endeavors within VORTEX to foster a balanced approach that safeguards civil liberties while addressing genuine threats. Nevertheless, it does not come without challenges, but acknowledes the concept in its full scope, which is vital for prevention efforts, political strategies as well as research practice. 

Bibliography

Abay Gaspar, H., Daase, C., Deitelhoff, N., Junk, J., & Sold, M. (2018). Was ist Radikalisierung? – Präzisierungen eines umstrittenen Begriffs. Leibniz-Institut Hessische Stiftung Friedens- und Konfliktforschung (HSFK).

Coolsaet, R. (2019). Radicalization: The origins and limits of a contested concept. In Radicalisation in Belgium and the Netherlands: Critical perspectives on violence and security (S. 29–51). IB Tauris.

Malthaner, S. (2017). Radicalization: The Evolution of an Analytical Paradigm. European Journal of Sociology58(3), 369–401. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0003975617000182

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Interview: Evaluating extremism prevention efforts: Insights from 14 countries

How do different countries assess whether their measures to prevent and counter violent extremism (P/CVE) are effective? This is what a group of researchers at the Global Public Policy Institute in Berlin and the Peace Research Institute Frankfurt are investigating as part of the PrEval project. Building on her previous involvement in the team ‘International Monitoring’, VORTEX doctoral candidate Lotta Rahlf is now working on a European comparative study of P/CVE evaluation systems. Here, she interviews her former colleagues Sophie Ebbecke, Sarah Bressan and Angela Herz, who share some initial results of an international comparative study on P/CVE evaluation practices in 14 countries across the globe.

Time and again, there are concerns that so few P/CVE efforts are evaluated. You have now carried out a very recent and extensive survey – is this still the case today?

Unfortunately, there is still room for improvement. In some countries, many P/CVE efforts remain insufficiently evaluated or are not evaluated at all, but evaluation practice is increasingly professionalised in others. This is a welcoming development but makes it all the more important to engage in a cross-national dialogue for sharing experiences and building capacities. Many formats are currently being created that promote such exchanges, such as P/CVE-specific networks where practitioners and evaluators can exchange experiences. Our international comparative study also sheds some light on the somewhat murky field of evaluation by providing answers as to how other countries go about it. 

Then why are there still difficulties in evaluating P/CVE in some countries? 

There are numerous reasons for this, but the most common is that the structures for evaluation are not yet well developed in many countries or that methodological skills are still lacking. Sometimes, stakeholders have varying experiences with P/CVE evaluation and different ideas about measuring effectiveness and do not yet engage in adequate dialogue. In some countries, there is also a lack of fundamental awareness of the added value of evaluation and insufficient funding for it. Yet, all these issues are interrelated, to put it simply. Where there is little funding, there is often little motivation to evaluate, either because there is a lack of awareness of the added value or because the money is perhaps spent on implementing the project rather than on an evaluation. After all, if resources are scarce, the insights gained from an evaluation might be limited anyway. 

The lack of evaluation skills to conduct high-quality and more frequent P/CVE evaluations is a problem that affects many countries. Some evaluation designs still cause great uncertainty, for example, experimental designs, which involve the ethical issues of withholding an intervention from a control group to examine the effectiveness of a P/CVE measure. Therefore, the reservations about such designs are large, while less problematic quasi-experimental designs, in which no randomisation of people into different groups takes place, are increasingly appreciated.

Sometimes, suitable evaluation structures and skills for evaluation are in place, yet few evaluations occur. This can then also be related to the planning of P/CVE efforts. If evaluation is not considered from the outset, not enough or not the right data will be collected to allow statements about the effectiveness of a measure.

Does evaluation contribute to improving P/CVE efforts?

Every evaluation leads to insights into the functioning or effectiveness of a P/CVE effort, which can contribute to its improvement. However, P/CVE evaluations are frequently associated with accountability – to the funder and/or public. Is the large amount of taxpayer money well spent? In many countries, we observe an interweaving of evaluation purposes: depending on whether learning or accountability is prioritised, the evaluation design differs in each case. Many of our experts stated that the desire to evaluate to justify the effectiveness, efficiency and sustainability of the resources provided prevails. In other cases, scientific interest in empirical evidence for the effectiveness of various measures takes centre stage. Ideally, an evaluation takes place in an environment with a strong learning culture in which the evaluation is allowed to critically examine the effectiveness of the measure without constant concerns about consequences regarding the P/CVE project’s future. 

You also posed questions about inspiring practices regarding P/CVE evaluation. Can you identify some promising developments?

As mentioned earlier, we are seeing more openness to dealing with sophisticated evaluation designs, such as quasi-experimental ones. For example, pre- and post-designs are particularly popular in our field to estimate the effect of a measure. In addition, the complexity of settings in which P/CVE efforts take place and the challenges to evaluation that this entails are increasingly being researched. The possibility of evaluating so-called multi-agency settings in which civil society and security agency actors may also be involved is currently being explored. Evaluation research is, of course, also influenced by technical developments. The question increasingly arises as to how digital methods can facilitate evaluation or what possibilities and limitations the use of AI offers. There is still a lot of research to be done here.

Finally, would you like to briefly explain your project? 

Our team ‘International Monitoring’ is part of PrEval, a German research and transfer project involving 15 partner institutions. PrEval seeks to develop evaluation and quality assurance in the fields of extremism prevention, democracy promotion, and civic education by researching this practice and developing formats that contribute to strengthening it. From the outset, the idea behind our project was that looking abroad can be inspirational for developing German evaluation practice. We sought to identify particularly promising and innovative approaches from which the German prevention and evaluation landscape could benefit by conducting comparative research into evaluation practices in other countries. We sent an online questionnaire to 37 experts from 14 countries in different regions of the world. For each country, we gathered insights from 2-4 experts about (among other things) the actors involved, the financing of evaluation, the methods used, which obstacles but also innovations exist and how evaluation results are dealt with. To contextualise this, we also asked what measures to prevent extremism exist in each country and let our experts assess extremist threats and trends in their countries. Additionally, we will conduct several issue-centred studies that allow us to delve deeper into some relevant topics, such as effective support structures for enhancing evaluation capacity.

When will we be able to read more about your research findings? 

Our final report and case studies will be published as an English-language publication by the Global Public Policy Institute in 2024. All other publications from the PrEval project will also be available on the project website: https://preval.hsfk.de/en/

PrEval runs from October 2022 to 2025 and is funded by the Federal Ministry of the Interior and Community.

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Researching Extremes: The Fine Line of Consent in Online Radicalization Studies

Research on online radicalization operates within a complex web of ethical and legal constraints. While the pursuit of knowledge in this field is crucial, it must be approached with a thorough understanding of these challenges. Researchers are tasked with the delicate balance of advancing academic inquiry while upholding ethical standards and legal requirements. Only through such responsible research practices can the field progress in a manner that is both legally sound and ethically robust.

One of crucial ethical aspects to consider is obtaining informed consent, which as described by Reynolds (2012), is a significant ethical challenge in academic research on online radicalization. Traditionally, informed consent is essential in human subject research, but its application in online environments, especially in public chat rooms or dynamic social media groups, might be tricky and involve certain negative consequences.  

First, when dealing with online communities of extreme nature, by seeking consent we risk alerting the group members’ behavior, as well as potential deletion of certain posts. This could jeopardize the authenticity of the data’s naturalistic setting and the overall validity of the research, which would undermine the goals of the study.

Second, revealing the researcher’s presence might risk reprisals from the subjects against the researcher and the team. Internet research on radicalization, while digital, still encompasses the communication of real individuals and should be treated as fieldwork in potentially risky environments. The necessity of maintaining covertness under such circumstances has been previously addressed in the literature (Lee-Treweek & Linkogle, 2000).

Extreme online communities are vigilant about their security, often closely monitoring group interactions to identify and remove anyone deemed ‘unfriendly’ or suspicious. This vigilance is not just about maintaining group integrity but also about controlling the flow of information. In his article, Reynolds (Reynolds, 2012) mentions a specific online community, where the designated security officer successfully detected and exposed trolls or spies. More than twelve individuals identified in this manner were publicly named and subsequently expelled from the group.

This practice of strict surveillance and control extends to academic researchers as well. Hudson and Bruckman (2004)encountered this directly in their study. When attempting to obtain informed consent from participants, the researchers frequently faced resistance and exclusion. They were expelled from chat rooms 72% of the time when requesting participants to opt out of the study and 62% of the time when asking for opt-in consent. This high rate of sanction demonstrates the challenges researchers face when studying online environments. Consequently, Hudson and Bruckman suggest that waiving informed consent might be a more feasible approach in such settings, where the standard practice of obtaining consent is impractical due to the heightened sensitivity and guarded nature of these online communities. Nevertheless, the mentioned study was conducted prior to the introduction of General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) that is our current legal norm.

These important regulations were considered in the 2021 report by Sold and Junk, titled Researching Extremist Content on Social Media Platforms: Data Protection and Research Ethics Challenges and Opportunities (Sold & Junk, 2021). The authors highlight that the legal regulations, particularly those outlined in the GDPR, play a crucial role in navigating the challenges of obtaining informed consent.

For instance, they mention Article 9(2)(e), which addresses a scenario in which researchers may utilize data if the data subject has consciously chosen to publish sensitive information. It lifts the data processing prohibition outlined in paragraph 1 of this article, signaling that the data subject, through conscious publication, acknowledges that their data may be used for research purposes. This waiver of the special protection under Article 9 suggests that the data subject may perceive the information as no longer requiring specific safeguards. However, it is essential to note that even when data is consciously published by the individual, it does not entirely forego the protections of the GDPR. Notably, Article 6 remains applicable, emphasizing that the processing of data, even when Article 9 protections are waived, still requires a legal basis. The lawful bases listed in Article 6 include:

  • The necessity of processing for the performance of a contract.
  • Compliance with a legal obligation.
  • Protection of vital interests.
  • Consent
  • The performance of a task carried out in the public interest or in the exercise of official authority.
  • Legitimate interests pursued by the data controller or a third party.

This underscores the GDPR’s commitment to ensuring that the processing of personal data, whether sensitive or not, is conducted within a robust legal and ethical framework. This requires a careful balance between research interests and the data subject’s legitimate interests. Notably, processing without consent is permissible only in limited circumstances, such as when the public interest in the research project outweighs the data subject’s interests.

Furthermore, Article 9(2)(j) of the GDPR provides specific rules for processing special categories of personal data for research purposes and these rules apply irrespective of whether researchers seek informed consent from participants. These special categories encompass sensitive information such as racial or ethnic origin, political opinions, religious or philosophical beliefs, and others. Processing personal data falling under these categories for research demands a meticulous approach. Researchers must demonstrate the specific research question, establish the impracticability of the project without the data, and conduct a careful balancing act to showcase that the research interest significantly outweighs the data subject’s interest in data protection. Adherence to principles of necessity, appropriateness, and proportionality in data processing, as well as the establishment of data access regulations, is necessary to ensure full compliance with data protection regulations. Including these legal considerations in online radicalization research is essential to ensure that studies are conducted with strong ethical foundations and in compliance with the law in this challenging field.

References

European Union. (2016). Regulation (EU) 2016/679 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 27 April 2016 on the protection of natural persons with regard to the processing of personal data and on the free movement of such data, and repealing Directive 95/46/EC (General Data Protection Regulation). Retrieved from: https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/HTML/?uri=CELEX:32016R0679

Hudson, J. M., & Bruckman, A. (2004). “Go away”: Participant objections to being studied and the ethics of chatroom research. The information society, 20(2), 127-139.

Lee-Treweek, G., & Linkogle, S. (2000). Danger in the field: Risk and ethics in social research. Psychology Press.

Reynolds, T. (2012). Ethical and legal issues surrounding academic research into online radicalisation: a UK experience. Critical Studies on Terrorism, 5(3), 499-513.

Sold, M., & Junk, J. (2021). Researching Extremist Content on Social Media Platforms: Data Protection and Research Ethics Challenges and Opportunities (Kings’s College ICSR London: GNET-Report., Issue. https://gnet-research.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/GNET-Report-Researching-Extremist-Content-Social-Media-Ethics.pdf