Given the extent to which it dominates global news and politics, it is
remarkable how little we know about the men - and, very occasionally, women
- behind Islamist extremism. How are people drawn into such radical
politics? What type of person becomes a terrorist? What is it that forces
radicals out of day-to-day politics and into the extreme and often violent
margins of society?
There are theories, of course. Maybe, some say, there's something inherent
within Islam that encourages intolerance; maybe it's a function of
widespread poverty, neglect and discrimination; maybe human nature
inherently dictates that there will always be groups that want to overturn
the status quo.
These, however, are guesses, and guesses aren't very helpful when it comes
to combating this problem. To contain and discourage radicalisation requires
a thorough, substantiated answer to the question of why and how people are
radicalised.
Anneli Botha, a senior researcher at the Institute for Security Studies, has
been trying to answer to this question for years. She realised there was
only one way to find out - and that was to ask members of radical groups
themselves.
She focused her research on Kenya and Somalia; her areas of expertise. The
results for Somalia will soon be published, but her paper on members of
radical groups operating in Kenya - specifically al-Shabaab and the Mombasa
Republican Council (MRC) - was released earlier this month.
Although al-Shabaab has its roots in Somalia, it has been active in Kenya
for several years and has masterminded a number of terrorist attacks
(including the spectacular attack on Nairobi's Westgate Mall in September
2013).
It is an Islamist extremist group that seeks principally to create an
Islamic state in Somalia, although its ambitions and operations don't stop
at the Somali border. Kenya has also been a prime recruiting ground for new
members; some of whom went to fight in Somalia, while others were used to
execute attacks at home.
The MRC, although often associated with al-Shabaab, is a very distinct
organisation with a very different agenda. It advocates for the secession of
Kenya's coastal areas, and emphasises land grievances and economic political
marginalisation. It is a predominantly, but not excusively, Muslim
organisation.
Through researchers associated with the Kenya Muslim Youth Alliance and
others, 95 interviews were conducted with individuals associated with
al-Shabaab, as well as 16 relatives of al-Shabaab members; and 45
individuals associated with the MRC, as well as five relatives of MRC
members. All the respondents were Kenyan and Somali-Kenyan nationals who had
grown up in Kenya and who had been radicalised there. Most of them (96%)
were male.
>From these interviews, Botha was able to observe patterns around their
education, family background, religion and ethnicity; as well as interrogate
their motivations for joining and staying with radical groups.
Who, then, is a typical extremist? There is no such thing, of course; each
individual is different. A one-size-fits-all description does not exist.
However, from the data, it is possible to observe certain trends.
Almost all respondents grew up in a male-dominated household. Even when the
father had passed away, usually a male relative stepped in to assume the
patriarchal role.
And over 70% of all respondents received corporal punishment at home,
although most said that this wasn't too severe. Unexpectedly, around 60% of
all respondents were middle children. 'Middle children are known to
experience the greatest sense of "not belonging,"' said Botha, explaining
that this makes them especially vulnerable to close-knit radical groups,
which can fill this void.
All respondents went to school of some description, most to Kenyan public
schools. This in itself is interesting, because these students would have
had contact with and friends from other religious and ethnic groups.
Some 67% of MRC respondents only attended primary school, compared to 47% of
al-Shabaab respondents - generally, al-Shabaab respondents are slightly
better educated. But few go on to tertiary education. Just one respondent
held a university degree (in medicine).
This relative lack of education manifests itself in the job market. About
half of all respondents were unemployed when they joined al-Shabaab or MRC,
and if they were employed it was likely in a low-skilled, low-income job
such as a petrol attendant, labourer or fisherman. 'It is important to note
that, with the exception of a few, the majority of respondents did not have
the necessary education to secure better employment,' said Botha.
This is not to say that poverty or a lack of income is necessarily a driving
factor of radicalisation. It's more subtle than that; otherwise there would
be extremist groups in every poor nation. 'It is when access [to public
resources] is based on ethnic, cultural or even religious differences
between the "haves" and the "have-nots" that economic conditions can
possibly contribute to radicalisation and instability,' explained Botha.
This was mostly true for MRC respondents, 28% of whom said that a
combination of ethnic and economic factors, or religious and economic
factors, were the most important reasons for joining the organisation. (Some
25% had said purely ethnic reasons, while 21% said purely political
reasons.)
The results were very different for al-Shabaab respondents, 87% of whom
identified religion as their main motivation for joining up. This makes
sense - al-Shabaab is, after all, an explicitly religious organisation.
But even for al-Shabaab respondents, religion wasn't the tipping point: it
was not the catalyst that finally made them abandon mainstream politics.
'When asked to clarify [what] finally pushed them over the edge, the
majority of both al-Shabaab and MRC respondents referred to injustices at
the hands of Kenyan security forces, specifically referring to "collective
punishment."'
Respondents complained that 'all Muslims are treated as terrorists' and that
'government and security forces hate Islam.' Some pointed to more specific
examples, such as the assassination of a Muslim clerics, or even particular
incidents, such as an alleged assault by Kenyan police on a group of
Muslims.
It is this last point that is most relevant for policymakers who are looking
to contain the threat of extremism in Kenya. Simply put, a counter-terrorism
strategy that relies on mass arrests, racial profiling and extrajudicial
killings is counter-productive.
These tactics have radicalised dozens, if not hundreds, of individuals,
argues Botha, 'ensuring a new wave of radicalism and collective resolve
among their members, ultimately indicating that threats of violence or
imprisonment are rarely effective deterrents.'
Botha's research gives unprecedented insight into the background and
motivations of the people who make up extremist organisations in Kenya. This
is what a Kenyan radical looks like. Now it is up to Kenya's policymakers to
tailor their responses accordingly.