From rap to 'radicalisation scores', today's e-jihadists are more than just consumers – but they tend to keep it all online
Intelligence analysts remain vexed over the internet's role in radicalising tomorrow's terrorists. Some analysts point to the continued trickle of e-jihadists turned real-world terrorists attracting headlines throughout the west for their ambitions of bloodshed – such as those involved in a recent plot to bomb the London stock exchange – as proof that the internet is a contributing cause of terrorism. Other analysts point to that same small number of terrorists as proof of just how rare it is for one of the thousands of online al-Qaida cheerleaders to try and exchange their keyboards for explosives.
The reality of al-Qaida's online movement today is the result of a winding interplay between the supply of al-Qaida's propaganda, and the demand for it from supporters worldwide. In the early 2000s, al-Qaida supporters flocked to basic websites to get their fix of news about al-Qaida's latest plot, or recent martyrdom. Bandwidth was limited and accessibility constrained so most of the Arabic-speaking online al-Qaida supporters used the internet as library: they logged on, downloaded what they needed and logged off.
As al-Qaida's media specialists began to understand the power of the web, they began opening internet-based discussion forums. They also started centralising their big-think ideological and strategic texts, which they encouraged supporters to download, read and repost. The written word became a critical part of the process by which one came to invest in al-Qaida. In the way that most kids collect comic books or baseball cards, these radical books, monographs and training material became prized possessions among its followers – something to stockpile, trade and read over and over again.
By the mid-noughties, bilingual adherents in the west began translating these written materials, making al-Qaida's ideas more accessible to more people in more places. Ideas, punctuated by operations, drove the movement's growth. But as al-Qaida's core group grew less relevant, due to attention shifting to the Iraqi insurgency, al-Qaida's global following began entertaining themselves in the robust number of discussion forums that had appeared. These forums became a bastion for intellectual, ideological and personal debate, like a jihadi version of salons. Importantly, they also provided a feeling of social connectedness with like-minded individuals, something few of them were able to find in their respective physical world lives.
They were not, however, any sort of assembly line for producing real-world terrorists. Most of these individuals craved blood on their computer monitors, but few were willing to shed it themselves. Those who were willing to sign off and sign up were mostly from Arab countries, interested more in travelling to Afghanistan to join the fight than staying home and blowing themselves up. The overwhelming majority of al-Qaida internet supporters were lurkers from the sidelines, afraid to jump into the online fray.
Then, by 2007, al-Qaida's senior leadership came roaring back and embarked on an aggressive media venture. Those long ideological treatises were falling out of fashion, supplanted by high-resolution, hour-long documentary videos. As al-Qaida released more videos, they began rolling out more personalities to adoring fans. No longer was it just Osama bin Laden and Ayman al-Zawahiri producing videos. Men like Abu Yahya al-Libi, Abu Layth, Mustafa Abu al-Yazid and a host of others became household names for al-Qaida's online fanboys.
Towards the end of the last decade, calls for Facebook, YouTube and blog invasions flooded the online discussion forums. They hoped that social media websites would be the next front for al-Qaida occupation. Facebook and YouTube were ideally structured for the more youthful supporters, less interested in engaging in the online fisticuffs of the discussion forums or reading drawn-out treaties on the meaning of jihad. They wanted action, dynamism and multimedia. Social media sites offered an easy and quick way to host, organise and display propaganda images and videos, the primary form of al-Qaida propaganda these days.
But most importantly, these kinds of sites allowed them to become complete producers of, not just consumers of, al-Qaida's global mission. They could record their own jihadi videos on their smartphones and upload them to YouTube. They could use a webcam in their bedroom to take Facebook profile shots and update their status every 10 minutes. Jihadi kids were recording pro-al-Qaida rap songs on their computers. Taken together with the call for grassroots violence being pushed by al-Qaida's English-speaking pied piper, Anwar al-Awlaki, the line between terrorism and media had been permanently blurred.
Thanks to the internet's 24/7 accessibility, one could spend countless hours online, downloading material, posting thoughts, watching videos or designing imagery. That kind of tireless activity would catapult an average individual through the various ranks of moderator and administrator. They can now acquire "radicalisation scores" and boost their "fundamentalism metres". Thanks to the internet, anyone can become a legend. But for some, even legendary status online is not satisfying. Only the taste of blood in the real world is enough.
In 2012, al-Qaida's senior leadership is several heartbeats away from extinction. Their affiliate groups in Yemen, Algeria and elsewhere remain embattled. What remains is a global support movement that is rabid, technologically empowered, but less concerned with the al-Qaida brand name or all that came along with it. Al-Qaida's global movement today is sloppy and self-centred. It is only the most zealous few who seek to live up to their legendary status in the virtual world these days. The problem for intelligence and law-enforcement professionals is identifying that needle in the online jihadi haystack.
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