A Qualitative Examination of How Somali Young Adults Think About and Understand Violence in Their Communities

Abstract

Violence prevention efforts must take into consideration the potentially stigmatizing labels associated with violence, and how youth perceive different types of violence in their communities. Somali communities and individuals in North America have at times been labeled as at-risk for violence, with two notable examples being gang violence and ideologically motivated violence, or violent radicalization. Little is known, however, about how the youth themselves think about and understand these types of violence in their communities. In this article, we seek to answer the following questions: How do Somali immigrants think about violence in their communities, and the stigma related to this violence? and What are the implications of these perceptions/beliefs for violence prevention? Data are drawn from two qualitative studies conducted as part of an ongoing community-based participatory research (CBPR) collaboration between academic partners and Somali communities in three cities in North America. Study 1 consists of nine focus groups (n = 36, male only), and Study 2 consists of in-depth interviews (n = 40, male and female). All participants are Somali young adults living in North America. Overall, radicalization to violence is seen as a remote and irrelevant issue in the Somali community. Participants distance themselves from the idea of radicalization to violence and from those who participate in radical acts or held such beliefs. In contrast, gang involvement is characterized as a major problem for Somali communities, and a product of the marginalization associated with being a refugee in Canada or the United States. Findings suggest that prevention efforts focused on gangs are more likely to be acceptable to communities than those focused on violent extremism.

Keywords

labeling

There are increasing calls for the prevention of youth violence (Bushman et al., 2016). This is particularly important within communities that are disproportionately impacted by violence, such as marginalized communities that face significant challenges of poverty, lack of educational or employment opportunities, and low cohesion (Morenoff et al., 2001). Compounding these problems are the damaging effects of stigma associated with violence; stigmatizing perceptions of certain communities can label individuals as more prone to violence and can have potential negative consequences for the well-being of those communities (Bernburg et al., 2006). Violence prevention efforts contend with both the reality of certain types of violence in some communities and the damaging stigma that could be brought by efforts seeking to prevent that violence. These efforts therefore have the potential to promulgate labels of these communities and their members as violent or dangerous. Understanding how these labels are perceived by individuals within these communities is important; whether such labels are accepted or rejected has consequences for the life course trajectories of such individuals (Adams et al., 2003). How do youth from marginalized communities think about violence in their communities and the stigma related to this violence? And what are the implications of these perceptions and beliefs for violence prevention? In this article, we seek to examine these questions in relation to one particular group, Somali immigrants.

Increasing our understanding of the process of stigma and labeling related to violence can help to elucidate processes of gang involvement and radicalization, as well as strengthen violence prevention efforts with young Somali adults. Traditionally, labeling theory has been applied to individuals who society treats as “deviant” or as an “outsider” (Becker, 1963). The process of labeling someone as “deviant” can lead to both society treating that individual differently (and negatively) and that individual changing his or her self-concept—and ultimately behavior—to fit the label (Becker, 1963; Paternoster & Iovanni, 1989). In this way, the very act of labeling someone or some communities as “gangster,” “terrorist,” or “outsider” may lead to a self-fulfilling prophecy where youth perceive that they are being treated as if the label fits, and this discriminatory experience serves to further marginalize and alienate youth from mainstream society. Although there is no single path or set of risk factors that predicts radicalization to violence, research increasingly suggests that experiences of marginalization and discrimination contribute to a sense of grievance that, in combination with other factors, can contribute to a vulnerability to violent radicalization; this is particularly true when one feels that one’s group has been unfairly targeted or treated (Ellis et al., 2019; McCauley & Moskalenko, 2017; Sageman, 2008; Victoroff et al., 2012). As Jasko et al. (2017) document, many individuals are pushed toward extremism as a consequence of their “quest for significance.” Specifically, when pathways to economic or social significance are blocked, individuals are more likely to turn toward violent extremism. As a consequence, the act of labeling an individual based on their identity may further contribute to conditions that foster violence.

Labeling theory has helped us to understand youth engagement in gang activity in a number of communities. Nearly three decades ago, Moore (1985) identified the stigmatization of youth of Latin ethnicity in East Los Angeles. The identification of classes and groups as gang members served to both isolate and stigmatize them in ways that impeded their assimilation and access to traditional American values and roles. Zatz and Portillos (2000) noted the “demonization” and marginalization of gang members, processes that further reduced their ties to conventional society. In a similar vein, McCorkle and Miethe (2006) noted the role of “moral panic” in the identification of and response to gangs in Las Vegas. They emphasize the disparity between the reality and the constructed image of gangs, and the role of “threat” in effectively spreading such labels. Labeling and stigma can diminish social and economic opportunities, in this way rendering traditional means of succeeding within society less accessible (see Denver et al., 2017; Sampson & Laub, 1997). Such challenges may serve to reduce the stakes in conformity for many individuals, producing negative consequences for participation in pro-social activities. Whether these same processes are at play in relation to the label of “terrorist” or “radicalized youth” is less well understood, though plausible on its face.

Although society’s perception and labeling of certain youth and communities as violent has been noted, less is known about how youth themselves, especially those that are marginalized, perceive violence in their communities and whether they accept or reject such labels and the associated stigma. Hallsworth and Young (2008) argue that the label “gang members” is largely an external creation, rejected and resisted by gang-labeled youth in the United Kingdom. In a study of radical Nationalists in the Basque Country, Van Den Broek (2017) noted that these individuals rejected being labeled as terrorists and fascists, and their behavior also failed to conform to these labels. Van Den Broek argues that those who are labeled “seldom passively undergo their being labelled by other people (society, policy makers); they may, so to speak, subvert the labels they have been tagged with while turning from labellees into labelers: labeling often evokes counter-labeling” (2017, p. 122). Thus, while there is some evidence that labels such as “gangster” or “terrorist” are at times met with resistance, no research has explored youth perceptions of these diverse stigmatizing labels within the same community. Furthermore, despite rising Islamophobia and fears of terrorism, little research has examined the perspectives of American Muslim youth on this topic and how being stigmatized as “terrorists” may differ from labels associated with other types of violence such as gang violence. Given the power of such labels, an examination of their impact on marginalized youth is important at this time, especially with a group that is marginalized by its country of origin, religion, and race. Thus, being a member of a community where members are labeled outsiders (extremists or terrorists) creates perceptions among community members (adults, authority figures, and the police) and ultimately among youth themselves. These pressures (from the community and for individuals) work together to stigmatize young people, consequently reducing their opportunities for involvement in pro-social activities and institutions including school, neighborhood activities, religious practices, and athletics. The result may indeed by the loss of individual significance.

Somali Refugees and Immigrants in North America

The devastating effects of violence are not new to Somali communities. Somalis began leaving Somalia as refugees and resettling in the United States in large numbers in the early 1990s when civil war broke out in Somalia and the government collapsed. Since that time, additional waves of Somalis arrived and resettled in the United States due to continued violence, political instability, famine, and drought. Somalis represent the third largest refugee group to arrive in the United States over the past decade (2008-2018; Department of State, Refugee Processing Center, 2018) with approximately 9,000 Somali refugees being resettled in 2015 alone (United States Office of Health and Human Services: Administration for Children and Families, Office of Refugee Resettlement, 2016). In the United States, Somali refugees are often resettled in urban high-crime and low-resource areas, and they experience higher levels of poverty and unemployment when compared with other refugee and immigrant groups (Abdi, 2012). According to the American Community Survey, approximately 51% of Somalis in the United States live in poverty, while that number is 13% in the general population (Abdi, 2014). Somalis thus arrive in the United States as refugees with a history of loss, trauma, and displacement. They face new struggles in the United States including poverty, loss of family and community support, and community violence (Abdi, 2012).

The Somali communities in North America are examples of marginalized communities that have had to contend with being labeled as violent. They experience marginalization and associated stigma in multiple ways, particularly as Muslim immigrants of African descent (Ellis et al., 2010). A small number of Somali-Americans have also been involved in highly publicized incidences of radicalization to violence, leading to further negative stereotyping of the broader community (Kott & Shah, 2016). The presence of gang activity in and around some Somali communities further contributes to stigmatizing labels of Somali youth (Cosh, 2011; Forliti, 2011). A greater understanding of how youth themselves perceive violence in their communities and how they respond to labels and the associated stigma attached to such labels is needed.

Programs focused on preventing gang violence and, separately, radicalization to violence have been implemented independently within Somali communities. For example, in both Minneapolis, MN, and Toronto, Canada, there has been a focus on building community policing programs that attempt to work with the Somali community to prevent violence among youth. The Minneapolis Police Department hired Somali officers to improve its relationship with the Somali community, and its community policing practices have been lauded as a model for other police departments working with marginalized communities (Jany & Norfleet, 2015). The Toronto Police Service similarly created a Somali unit that works with communities to reduce gang violence in that community. Furthermore, there have been programs and policies that have been introduced with the purpose of reducing radicalization to violence among youth in both Canada and the United States, though these programs have met resistance from the community due to the perception that they target these communities unfairly (Beydoun, 2016; Weine et al., 2017).

Current Study

Despite its importance, little is known about how Somali youth themselves think about the impact of these types of violence on their communities and the stigma they experience related to these labels. We address this gap by drawing from qualitative data collected with Somali young adults at different timepoints, and different methods, that—in a moment of scientific good fortune—converge to provide an opportunity to hear how Somali youth themselves view both gang violence and radicalization to violence, and the associated labels, within their communities. Understanding similarities and differences in perceptions of these phenomena and labels can help inform potential overlap and divergence in approaches to preventing these different types of violence.

Method

Community-Based Participatory Research (CBPR)

A CBPR (Israel et al., 1998) approach to research draws upon the true partnership between academics and community stakeholders in all aspects of a research program. Under CBPR, the needs, capacity, and knowledge of the community of study are central to each part of the research process including but not limited to formulating the questions posed, determining the best method to ask those questions, interpreting the results, and disseminating the findings. The work of an ongoing long-term CBPR collaboration between several academic partners and the Somali community, with the overall mission to understand and support the well-being and healthy adjustment of young Somali refugees in the United States, is highlighted here. The CBPR approach is particularly appropriate to studies interested in gathering the perceptions of study participants, as is our goal here. We bring together qualitative components of two larger mixed-methods research studies conducted by this collaborative team across time and place that each provides a window into Somali young adult perceptions of gangs and radicalization to violence. Studies 1 and 2 are described in more detail below. Table 1 outlines similarities and differences between the two studies. For each study, the goal, protocol, and procedure were reviewed with community advisors and staff prior to, and throughout, the implementation of the study. Each study was approved by the Institutional Review Board of Boston Children’s Hospital and Study 2 was also approved by the Carleton University Research Ethics Board (REB) in Canada. Informed consent was obtained by a Somali staff member.

Table 1.

Differences and Similarities Between the Two Datasets Drawn Upon in the Current Analyses.

Dataset	Method of Data Collection	Cities of Data Collection	Data Collection Completed	n	Participants
Multisite Longitudinal Study	Qualitative interviews	Boston, MA; Minneapolis, MN; Lewiston, ME; Portland, ME; Toronto, Ontario	January 2014–March 2015	40	18- to 30-year-old Somali young adults
Boston Somali Study	Focus groups	Boston, MA	July 2011	Focus groups: total of 9 focus groups with 36 participants; 3 to 5 per focus group	18- to 25-year-old Somali young adults

Study 1: Focus Group Study

Study 1 is part of a larger mixed-methods study designed to explore the association between trauma, stress, mental health, social bonds, and radicalization to violence in young adult Somali refugees in the greater Boston region of the United States in 2010. The focus groups are specifically designed to understand Somali youth reactions to and perceptions of how Somalis are portrayed in the media, including specific prompts related to media coverage of Somalis and radicalization and gang involvement. This is a direct assessment of the role of labeling in creating an identity as a member of a deviant group and the role of marginalization in that process. Somali males between 18 and 25 years old who had been living in the United States for at least 1 year were recruited through snowball sampling (Wright et al., 1992) to participate in the larger study; participants were invited on a rolling basis to take part in additional focus groups until a total of 36 participants was reached. Nine focus groups were conducted. The average age of focus group participants was 21 years (SD = 2.11, range 18-25), and average length of time in the United States was 8.8 years (SD = 4.63, range 2-18). Participants received $30 for their time. Focus groups were conducted in an academic setting, allowing for audio recording and observation through a one-way mirror, and lasted about 2 hr. Two young Somali men were hired and trained as focus group moderators; this was done to maximize similarity between participants and moderators and thus encourage more open discussion of potentially taboo topics (e.g., gang involvement and recruitment into terrorist groups). A Somali female staff member with experience in conducting focus groups observed the focus groups through a one-way mirror and provided live-time coaching to the moderators using “bug in the ear” technology.

The focus group guide, developed by the CBPR research team, was organized around three major topic areas based on recent media coverage of Somalis: Somali piracy, Somali-American involvement in terrorism, and Somali-American involvement in gangs. After an initial ice-breaker question asking about something they like about living in the United States, participants were presented with a series of newspaper headlines that addressed each of the three topic areas. Headlines were presented visually on a handout, and participants were asked to read them and share their reaction/thoughts about them. Moderators guided the conversation with questions such as “As a Somali, what is it like to see stories like these in the news? How does it affect how you feel about being Somali/American?” Participants were encouraged to respond in either Somali or English, depending on their preference. Audio recordings of focus groups were transcribed and then checked for accuracy by a second research assistant. Somali language portions of the discussion were translated and transcribed by a Somali researcher and double-checked for accuracy by a second Somali researcher.

Focus group transcripts were coded by a team of four researchers, including a Somali researcher. Content analysis was used to identify core consistencies and meaning within and across focus groups. All nine transcripts were coded by the team of coders and differences discussed until consensus was reached. Data were sorted by themes and, in conjunction with the full focus group texts, analyzed for recurring patterns. Forty-six codes in total were derived for the original study and of those, two codes were reviewed for the current analyses, “Extremism—Explanation of behaviors” and “Gangs—Explanation of behaviors.”

Study 2: Somali Youth Longitudinal Study

The objective of Study 2 is to understand pathways to diverse outcomes among Somali refugees and immigrants with shared life histories: Why do some embrace greater openness to violent extremism, while others move toward gangs, crime, or resilient outcomes such as civic engagement? To what degree do these outcomes overlap? The larger study consists of a longitudinal mixed-methods interview design in four Somali communities in North America that are diverse in size and characteristics. At Time 2 (2014-2015), a subset of participants from three sites (Ontario, Canada; Minneapolis, MN; and Boston, MA) were invited to participate in an in-depth qualitative interview that explored changes in the participants’ lives over the past year (since the Time 1 interview). The interview guide was developed by study staff, including both Somali and non-Somali members of the research team. Interviews were designed to explore participants’ experience of key risk or resilience factors (internet, religion, community/social bonds, formal institutions). Examples of interview prompts included questions related to social bonds with family and community, and interactions with police. The interview guide did not query about gangs or radicalization to violence specifically; nonetheless, these topics were raised by subjects and emerged as important themes within the interviews.

Participants in Study 2 were recruited through snowball sampling. Somali youth between the ages of 18 and 30 years born outside North America but who have resided in North America for at least 1 year were eligible for inclusion in the sample. After completing the second quantitative interview, a subset of 40 individuals was selected to complete in-depth qualitative interviews. These participants were selected purposively and stratified by their score on the Radicalism Intention Scale¹ (Moskalenko & McCauley, 2009) to represent diverse attitudes toward the use of political violence. Interviews took between 30 and 60 min. Participants were provided a $30 study incentive, and all agreed to have the interviews audio-recorded.

Following transcription of the interviews, six members of the research team, including two Somali team members, developed the coding and analyses process. First, through multiple iterative steps, codes were developed during the preliminary analyses of four transcripts. These codes were then applied by multiple coders to an additional four transcripts and discussed until consensus was achieved. Codes were then modified and new codes were added. Finally, to assess the reliability of coding, a research assistant coded all forty transcripts, with a second researcher coding every 10th transcript, meaning that in total 30% of all transcripts were coded by multiple coders (12/40). Coding by the secondary coder was cross-checked with the transcripts coded by the primary coder. Sixty-four codes were derived and of those, four codes were reviewed for the current analyses: “extremism,” “gangs,” “recruitment,” and “terrorist organization.” Code reports were analyzed to identify emerging themes. Analyses of coded transcripts were supported with NVivo Qualitative Data Analysis Software (2012) and included examination by multiple team members for emerging themes. The goal throughout this process was to accurately reflect the perceptions and experiences of study participants.²

Data from both studies (Study 1 focus groups and Study 2 in-depth interviews) are included in the current analyses. Datasets differ in several ways, including method of data collection (focus group vs. in-depth interview), geographic area (Boston vs. Boston, Minneapolis, and Toronto), gender (all male vs. male and female), and time of data collection (2010 vs. 2014-2015). Such variation between the datasets introduces challenges related to comparability, and whether participants from different points in time and different geographic communities could be expected to share common perceptions of violence and labeling. Despite these differences, both datasets include rich discussions of how violence either occurs or is feared in their communities, including both gang violence and radicalization. Combining these data in the analysis phase offers an opportunity to examine whether consistent thematic findings appear in youth perspectives across these divergent sources of data; common findings across different sources of data would suggest that identified themes are robust and reflect Somali youth perspectives from different communities and over time.

Authors reviewed all code reports pulled from both focus groups and in-depth interviews and noted observations within and across data sources. Overall, in-depth interviews contain less discussion of radicalization to violence than the focus groups, likely due to the fact that, in contrast to the focus group guide, the interview guide does not specifically address this topic. The interview guide also does not contain queries related to gangs, but this topic was nonetheless discussed by many, though not all, interview participants. It is also possible, however, that differences in time and location contribute to these differences; it is possible that the lower levels of discussion of radicalization reflected changes over time in either the salience of the topic in the community, or an increased reticence to discuss a highly stigmatized topic. Despite lower frequency of discussion of gangs and radicalization within the interviews compared with the focus groups that specifically prompted for these topics, similar themes are identified across the two data sources and the pooled results are presented below.

Results

The focus groups and in-depth interviews produced rich qualitative data related to the study participants’ views of radicalizing to violence and gangs. Despite different samples, locations, methods, and chronological time that the data were collected, similar themes emerge in relation to how community members view the problems and labels of radicalization to violence and gangs within their community. We first discuss perspectives the phenomena and labeling related to radicalization to violence, then contrast this with youth perception of gangs.

Radicalization to Violence: Someone Else and Somewhere Else

Overall, radicalization to ideological violence was seen as a remote and irrelevant issue in the Somali community. Such characterizations of Somalians were seen as externally imposed and portrayed a false image of the community. Participants distanced themselves from the idea of radicalization to violence and those who participated in radical acts or beliefs in their communities. Such groups were not seen as omnipresent or active in the Somali community. Indeed, study participants distanced themselves from such groups in several ways. First, many participants denied that radicalization to violence had occurred in the Somali community. Second, Somalis who had engaged in radicalization to violence or joined an extremist group were talked about as “crazy” or making individual choices (as opposed to representing the community). Finally, many participants made a point of talking about how Somalis who engaged in radicalization to violence must have been influenced by individuals outside of the Somali community. Each of these themes, described in more detail below, contributes to the overall sense among Somali young adults that radicalization to violence, if it happens at all, is done by individuals who don’t represent the community. These themes represent “boundary maintenance,” that is, the identification of groups and individuals who exist beyond the normative structure and group context of Somali refugees.

Denial: It’s Not True

Within the focus groups, many participants responded to headlines talking about Somalis leaving Minneapolis to join al-Shabab with disbelief and outright denial. This was articulated clearly by two young men in different focus groups, “I mean, as, as Somali ourselves, you know, we’re not going to look at this and believe it’s true, you know, we’re going to deny it” (Age 20, Male, Boston, Participant 512, FG 3), and “Those headlines are false” (Age 19, Male, Boston, Participant 517, FG 1). Others less directly denied that radicalization to violence had occurred, but emphasized the false nature of the media and their perceptions that actions within the community were being mislabeled:

If you check, all the sources are coming from one place, Star Tribune? [Minneapolis newspaper] It’s only one source, you know what I mean. The only common, is USA today but . . . (Moderator: Star tribune is in Minnesota), oh yeah. . . . Things like that is not true today, Somali, in that case why don’t they blow up the entire world, if they are terrorist? Right now why are we not blowing if we are terrorist? Its only if you’re Muslim, the name terrorist comes but if you’re non-Muslim and you blow something no one will call you terrorist. They going to say, he has mental problems, or depression caused or this one is experiencing divorce, you know? Is like, they make excuse but they once they see your name starts with Muslim then you are completely terrorist. (Age 21, Male, Boston, Participant 533, FG 10)

Similarly, another focus group participant stated,

I believe that there is no terrorism that lives in this country. There is no terrorism, you know what happen in Norway, he wasn’t Somali and he wasn’t Muslim either and he killed over 197 people. Do you understand? How come they didn’t say he was terrorist? Now they saying he had mental issues and that is why he did it. Okay, now, what is written here is that Somalis are terrorist. We are not terrorist, the reason why they calling us terrorism is, we are Muslim also they want us to leave and become non-believers we are not allowing this to happen. (Age 21, Male, Boston, Participant 561, FG 10)

Some participants in the in-depth interviews similarly denied that radicalization to violence had taken place in their community:

Once a while ago, they said that certain mosques were sending kids to Somalia, blowing themselves up. How can you spread a rumor like that about the church? That’s wrong. Now there’s Fox 9 News camera and certain Americans actually believe this stuff, this crap that Somalis send Somalis to Somalia to terrorize other Somalis from here in America, that here in America, they think Cedar Riverside is a training camp for terrorists, right here in their back yard, little old Minneapolis, little Cedar River is big terror type thing. They think these good old pastors, these God-fearing men would brain wash kids to go bring kids to do suicide bombings. That’s incorrect. Even if it was true, who gives you the right to point them out? But that is not the case. I know that’s not the case. I know they didn’t do that. (Age 25, Male, Minneapolis, Participant 12, SYLS)

Another participant, while aware of a recent criminal investigation of a Somali young man, still described how the prosecutors misunderstood what was actually happening and fell back on assumptions and stereotypes in determining fault:

There’s a recent court thing about how this guy made a comment and he was talking and it was taken out of connotation, where he was talking about. . . . Well they were asking questions on terrorism and stuff like that. And him, he’s not thinking about terrorists. He’s thinking about the people who are fighting against the government, and he’s like, “I’m in support of them.” And so, you know, they wouldn’t let him explain anything. And they’re too busy saying, “Well, where are you from?” Why are you interested in going to Egypt? Why are you interested in going to Somalia? And he’s like, “’Cause I want to learn my religion.” And they’re like, “No. You’re a terrorist. I can tell from where you’re from.” (Age 20, Female, Toronto, Participant 05, SYLS)

Many participants believed that “the media” often seen as the true problem was identifying and amplifying what was a relatively small issue among Somalis or Muslims. By publicizing acts of terror, the media served to create bias against Somalis and exaggerate what was a rare behavior. Such characterizations of Somalis were thus seen as externally imposed and served to make integration more difficult. One participant also articulated a concern that by emphasizing these rare events the media effectively “normalized” the behavior; similar to the concerns expressed around youth seeing gangs as normalized behavior, this participant articulated a fear that such ubiquitous media coverage would actually exacerbate the problem down the road, stating, “the kids who grow up, they might end believing some of this [media stories about Somali terrorism] to be true; and it might influence some of their choices, some of them might think, ‘Ok if this is true I might be one of those guys’” (Age 23, Male, Boston, Participant 546, FG 5).

Personal Choice, Personal Problem: They’re Crazy

Many participants struggled to make sense of why some Somali youth had radicalized to violence, and frequently talked about it as a matter of either personal choice or simply that those individuals were “crazy” or “stupid.” As one participant pointedly responded to the issue of the Somalis who left Minneapolis to join al-Shabab, “They got problems! (Laughs) Mental problems! Something . . . they’re crazy . . .” (Age 24, Male, Boston, Participant 511, FG 3). Another participant was quick to clarify that a Somali who had been radicalized to violence had something wrong with him and did not represent the Muslim faith or Somali community, stating,

Yeah, basically, he might’ve been like, probably, sick in the head or might’ve listened to the wrong people, you know, and was on the wrong path. But that doesn’t put the whole Somali people in the same agenda as him, like same, same ideas or whatever. (Age 21, Male, Boston, Participant 543, FG 1)

In another interview, a participant struggled to understand how someone could interpret Islam in such a violent way; after careful consideration, he concludes that it is “totally crazy”:

Because you do need morals in your life to teach you right from wrong. I think religion teaches you that. But it’s also good not to take it to the extreme. You don’t want to read something and take a quote from it and go with it blindly. I think the kids that are doing that just opened up a book one day and started reading, and have their own radical thoughts and perceptions. Some people don’t know, the Qur’an was written like 14,000 years ago. And sometimes it talks about wars that happened back then, it’s not necessarily talking about now. And some kids read that and take it to heart, like, I’m doing this for God, and go to Somalia and blow up their own people. Which is totally crazy. (Age 27, Male, Minneapolis, Participant 09, SYLS)

One participant identified the lure of radicalization to violence as being “cool,” but again identified those who would fall for that as crazy. The description of individuals who engage in such acts as “crazy” or “loco” is evidence of how extreme such individuals and groups were perceived:

I think some people find it to be cool now to be a Somali, a, like, a Muslim extremist. Like, they think it’s cool. Some crazy people. Like, it’s like a movement. Like, “Oh . . . I am Muslim, I’m extremist. Yeah! Down with USA! Blah, blah . . .” That’s where they’re going with it now, I believe. (Age 24, Male, Boston, Participant 511, FG 3)

Thus, while some participants strove to understand the choices made by those who had joined extremist groups, ultimately the choice was seen as something incomprehensible and generated by external groups, particularly the media.

Outside Influence: Conspiracies and Brainwashing

Among some participants, an additional theme emerged suggesting that individuals who radicalized to violence had been influenced by someone outside the community, or brainwashed. This stance clearly framed community values in opposition to extremist beliefs, and placed the blame for radicalization squarely outside the community. These participants also tended to paint the Somalis who had radicalized to violence as more vulnerable individuals who were pulled into something anathema to their culture and community. Clearly there is active rejection of labels including terrorism or extremism, particularly as they may involve violence:

Brainwashed has to go for all of them [Somali extremists], because, say if, like when . . . let me start with the, like, terrorists, like. . . . Say if, like, a random, like, say, a Somali teen, it’s not just going to come up and just say, “I want to be a terrorist, I want to do this,” like, there has to be, like, a person who’s like encouraging them, who’s, like, telling them the pros not the cons. (Age 18, Male, Boston, Participant 535, FG 7)

My guess is that when the youth don’t have a clear goal and they’re told, it helps fill a void. God will treat them right in the afterlife, even if right now, they’ll suck. And the parents will praise them, “look at my son. He goes to the mosque. He’s a very good boy.” It becomes easy to brainwash people. When they start following orders, they get rewards, acceptance. (Age 20, Female, Minneapolis, Participant 10, SYLS)

Somali Culture: Protective and Apart From Extremism

Regardless of their perspective on why people radicalized to violence, participants were clear that terrorism was not a part of Somali culture or religion.³ Many participants across both the focus groups and interviews were adamant that their culture and religion were antithetical to radicalization to violence and that any such behavior was an aberration among a small and misguided segment of the population: “They are using, like the religion in the wrong way” (Age 20, Male, Boston, Participant 553, FG 9); “Oh no, there is no religion there. What are you talking man? They go to Mosque, turning the lights off, and killing people. Is that call[ed] religion?” (Age 21, Male, Boston, Participant 532, FG 4).

Taken together, participants painted a picture of radicalization to violence as remote, rare (if real at all), and unrepresentative of Somali culture and religion. Indeed, our respondents took explicit steps to actively reject these labels as descriptive of Somalis and Somali culture. Indeed, many members of our sample offered explanations about the inherent conflict between the pillars of Islam and terror or extremist groups. Explanations for such behavior centered on the individual, either as someone who had a personal problem or who was recruited/brainwashed. Participants did not tend to identify hardships in the United States—pushes—as drivers of radicalization to violence; rather, they focused on the “pull” factors of recruiters or coolness, or individual factors such as mental illness.

Gangs: All Around and Inevitable

Discussions of gang involvement stood in stark contrast to radicalization to violence in several important ways. While clear boundaries between extremist groups and the Somali community were identified, such was not the case with gang membership. Across focus groups and interviews, there seemed to be general acknowledgment that gangs were a considerable problem for the Somali community. Many participants spoke about gang involvement as an inevitable outcome for youth growing up in gang-ridden communities. They also clearly articulated how common struggles of being marginalized in America led to gang involvement. In this context, Somali immigrants’ shared experiences—marginalization, discrimination, exclusion—with members of other minority groups. Boston, in particular, has a century-long presence of gangs among new ethnic groups including Irish and Italian immigrants (Miller, 2011; Whyte, 1943). Participants rarely if ever assigned blame to individuals who joined gangs, and instead pointed to the structural context, and the lack of other better opportunities in America. Participants all seemed to know someone who was in a gang, and spoke about the experience with a sense of intimacy. Thus, gang involvement seemed to be characterized as a major problem for Somali communities, and a product of the Canadian/American refugee experience.

Gangs: Pervasive and Problematic

Participants spoke at great length about gang activity and membership among Somali young adults. Unlike the responses of the focus group members to questions about radicalization to violence, there was more acceptance of the conclusion that some Somali youth did form and join gangs. Several participants identified gangs as the priority problem within their community. Many participants talked about gang membership as an inevitable outgrowth of living where they did.

Part of American life as refugees and immigrants is dealing with poverty and lack of opportunity (Miller, 2011; Whyte, 1943). These structural challenges, framed as external pushes, were frequently cited as reasons for gang involvement, as opposed to personal decisions. There seemed to be an understanding that for kids growing up in certain neighborhoods they had no choice but to join a gang. For some, it was the natural consequence of deprivation:

Like for example, you know how there are all these gangs and other problems? Well at one point at their life, all these so-called gang member used to be kids just like us. And if you have a kid right here, and you don’t give him anything, he’s going to get into stealing, robbing people. So he might go that route. (Age 27, Male, Minneapolis, Participant 09, SYLS)

For others, it was also a matter of protection, a common theme among gang members of most every background:

People expect you’re in a gang, you know? Some people they get more respect, you know? They feel like they got more power, more money, stuff like that. I think that’s why a lot of Somali people join gangs, you know? Or they make their own gang, you know? They’re probably tired of being bullied and stuff like that, you know? I mean, if you’ve had it up to here, then you gotta do what you gotta do. Straight up. (Age 20, Male, Boston, Participant 512, FG 3)

What’s driving them is, like, they are trying to adapt to the environment. Like, say, like, there’s a group of other kids, they see, like they see them acting some way and then, like, some might think that’s cool, some might, and then they try to do it, and then, maybe, like, if they have problems they’ll form a gang for protection, and then the protection will just lead to, like, criminal activities, and it’s a gang. (Age 18, Male, Boston, Participant 535, FG 7)

This subcategory is consistent with protection as a primary motivation offered by gang members for gang joining (Decker & Van Winkle, 1996):

You know, I have friends and then I got into a fight [with] other people and then I see those people are gangs and then I want to be the same too because that’s the only way you can defend yourself. (Age 19, Male, Boston, Participant 521, FG 7)

Participants tended to emphasize external factors that lead youth to join gangs, and minimized any personal choice or decision. One participant likened it to a cancer, suggesting that children who were exposed to the gangs had no agency to avoid them on their own and nothing short of cutting members out of the community could halt the progression of the problem:

No, it’s [gang activity] not getting any better. It’s only getting worse, honestly. . . . ’Cause most of them [gang members] are getting locked up now, most of the guys that are really killing are being locked up. I’d say stopping the – cause every time they grow up, they have these other little kids that see this and they school them into retaliating and, “Oh, you can become the big homie now. Go ahead and . . .”. . . . These other guys are already cancers, so before it spreads, you stop the cancer from spreading. (Age 24, Male, Minneapolis, Participant 11, SYLS)

The high level of social connectedness within the Somali community, many of whom reside in ethnic enclaves was seen as its own challenge in relation to the problem of gangs; participants talked about how everyone knew someone in gangs, and parents knew their kids were in gangs. Like the description of the spreading cancer, it seemed that once gangs took root in a socially connected community there was a sense of impossibility in turning back the tides:

The gang members, of course, you have to do it with your friends, if your friend is a gang member, you’re going to end up being like him. But I don’t know about the other one . . ., I don’t know about the terrorism, I think it’s about their choice. No one’s going to force you to do something. You always, you always have a choice. (Age 22, Male, Boston, Participant 537, FG 8)

Notably, the above participant captured not only the sense of the inevitability of gang involvement for some young Somalis, but also the sense that radicalization to violence stood in stark contrast to that as something that was an individual-level decision, and one not dictated by circumstances. While membership in groups known to be radicalized to violence was actively rejected, gang membership was acknowledged as a likely outcome for many community members. The former had its locus in external groups, while the latter was seen as endemic to the problems of first-generation immigrants.

Gangs: North American Phenomenon

Participants described gang violence as primarily Somali-on-Somali. Despite this, a general theme that ran across both the focus groups and interviews was that being in a gang was an American/Canadian phenomenon and were normal parts of American/Canadian life. The “normalization” of gang membership as part of life in North America reflects both assimilation and the realization that some parts of the host culture had inevitable consequences, gang membership in this case:

It is like, you know, same thing with the African Americans. In a way they, you know, there are some African Americans that are all over the north side—and that is not good. They bringing that Chicago mentality here. And these Somalians are not bringing these stuff from Somalia. We are not doing that, this is America. American bred, thinking that has—we have become the gangster. We have become the Crips and Bloods. (Age 25, Male, Minneapolis, Participant 12, SYLS)

When you’re younger, you think, oh since you go to social media and listen to the music, you’re thinking, ‘I have to be like these guys, these guys from Chicago [a gang mecca] and stuff.’ So they’re going to act like those guys and trying to be a part of a gang, this and that. (Age 20, Male, Minneapolis, Participant 06, SYLS).

This stood in stark contrast to discussions of Somali culture and religion, which were clearly identified as protective, “Brother, he is right, it’s not part of our religion or culture to be part of gangs or be people who leave their religion easily” (Age 21, Male, Boston, Participant 561, FG 10). The ability to identify lines of demarcation between indigenous culture and host culture is an important part of the acculturation and integration of immigrants. This applies to engagement in groups that perpetrate violence.

Discussion

Our data suggest that young Somali adults are highly cognizant of the adverse impact of violence on their communities, including the toxic effects of gang violence and the labeling associated with both gang involvement and violent radicalization. The perceived impact of the two types of violence, as well as these labels, is described in sharply divergent ways. The findings presented here are particularly noteworthy, as practitioners working to develop programs to counter radicalization to violence have raised questions as to whether violence prevention efforts with a longer history of development and implementation, such as gang prevention programs, could provide useful models from which to build (National Institute of Justice, 2015).

There is strong consensus in our findings that terrorism is seen as remote and unrelated to the lives of our participants—however, the majority of our participants see gangs as a significant problem in their communities. This duality likely reflects the reality that gang involvement and activity is far more prevalent a reality than the rare, albeit dangerous, radicalization to violence behaviors that have received significant attention by both the media and national security officials. When young Somali adults discuss radicalization to violence, they emphasize the individual-level choice that is involved, and the threat posed by recruiters external to the community. In addition, the locus of radicalization is seen as external and imposed by powerful elites such as media and politicians. In contrast, gangs are seen as an inevitable outcome of structurally marginalized communities that have few positive opportunities to offer. In particular, the powerful social, protective, financial, and “cool” resources that young people perceive to be offered by gangs provide an enticing alternative to the struggles of daily life in immigrant communities. As a consequence, there is active rejection of the Somalis and Somali community being labeled as extremist and passive acceptance of the gangs label being applied to the Somali community (though notably rejected at times at the level of the individual).

These data suggest that labeling theory may help us to understand the processes of Somali youth engagement with gangs, but less so for violent extremism. In talking about gangs, Somali youth seem to accept that the label describes real phenomena and further note the powerful lack of opportunity that shapes pathways into gangs. This is consistent with the notion in labeling theory that the stigma of being seen as “gang involved” both shapes individual behavior and limits pathways out of this lifestyle. However, being labeled as a gang member is not seen as stigmatizing in the same way as being labeled an extremist is; this may be partly due to the perception that being labeled as “gang involved” may have implications for a youth’s standing within their local community, whereas being labeled a “terrorist” has much broader implications related to one’s standing in the nation. Being in a gang was talked about as related to getting more respect, providing defense, something in part driven by friendships, and even something that connotes being “American.” Thus gang involvement seemed closely tied to belonging, both locally and even more broadly. In stark contrast, the label of terrorism was something that seemed to threaten Somalis standing in the national community. The label was noted to be used on national news channels, and the labelers invoked were Americans: “Certain Americans believe this stuff.” Belongingness versus “otherness” seemed to characterize one distinction in how Somali youth thought of the labels of “gang” versus “extremist.” The primary difference seems to be the endogenous source of the label. “Terrorist” has an external locus and is seen as something rare and apart from the community. “Gang members,” on the contrary, are seen as a part of the community for Somalis and other groups.

The label “extremist” was vigorously resisted; despite this, one participant raises the concern that, as would be predicted by labeling theory, ongoing labeling of Somalis as terrorists might normalize the idea and in this way increase the likelihood that a youth might demonstrate this behavior.

According to labeling theory, applying a derogative label to an individual or group (e.g., “deviant”) has implications for both how society treats that person/group and an individual’s self-concept and, ultimately, behavior. Our young adult participants report the negative impact of being associated with violent extremism, but rarely discussed the impact of this on their self-concept or behavior. Youth identified ways in which society perceives Somalis as at-risk for being extremists, or even investigates members as potential terrorists. The Trump Administration’s executive order on immigration that specifically banned immigration by Somalis out of purported security concerns (Executive Order No. 13769, 2017) post-dates the data collected here, but provides a further example of how labels—specifically here the label of terrorist—can lead to differential treatment by society. As noted, within these data youth provided scant discussion of changes in self-concept or behavior in relation to this label; however, it remains to be seen whether the process of changing identity and behavior is one that unfolds over time as a result of damaging labels and associated differential treatment by society. Discriminatory policies or differential treatment of Somalis as a result of labeling as extremists may contribute to a sense of injustice and unfair treatment by government, or to a lack of belonging; these factors have been identified as risk factors for radicalization (Ellis et al., 2019; Vergani et al., 2020). Especially given this, the fact that youth so resoundingly rejected the label of violent extremist appears to be an important protective factor.

Despite these vastly different discussions, there are similarities in how youth talk about both gangs and radicalization to violence. Somali young adults identify a common theme across the two types of violence: They are both seen as “external” to Somali culture and religion. Participants clearly articulate that radicalization to violence is anti-Muslim, and that violence and gangs are a product of the urban environment in which they resettle rather than their country and culture of origin.

Although less prevalent in the narratives, at times participants talk about attributes of the radicalization to violence phenomena that parallel the ways that gangs have become tempting for youth. Specifically, the idea that radicalization to violence is seen by some as “cool” echoes the pull of gangs for many youth. In addition, concerns that the media creates an image of radicalization to violence among Somalis as pervasive and common echo the way in which gangs are seen as highly prevalent in communities. Just as the normalization of gangs as “American” is seen as paving the way for youth to join, the media’s perceived normalization of radicalization to violence as “Somali” is seen as exacerbating the problem.

Limitations

While these findings provide insight into the perspectives of some Somali immigrants from three North American cities, findings may not generalize to other cities, ethnic groups, or community members. Although Study 2 includes male and female participants, Study 1 is limited to male participants; the applicability of our findings to female Somalis is more limited. In addition, data were collected at two timepoints that were analyzed together. Although this was done because no notable differences emerged in the themes identified in each dataset, the question of whether perceptions change over time is an important one, particularly in light of changing sociopolitical events related to both violent extremism and stigma. Finally, additional quantitative research exploring related questions is needed to better understand the prevalence of, and impact related to, stigma of violence-related labels.

Implications for Prevention and Intervention

While primary prevention efforts address violence at the population level, secondary prevention efforts often identify “at-risk” youth or communities that bring with them the challenges of participants being stigmatized by labels that carry negative identities. Thus, despite the potential benefits of access to violence prevention efforts, individuals or communities that are targeted to receive these violence prevention efforts may experience the negative effects, and unintended consequences, of stigma and labeling. For communities working to address youth radicalized to violence, this may be particularly problematic.

Our data suggest that prevention efforts focused specifically on countering violent extremism (CVE) are not likely to be well received by Somalis. This is not because the Somali community embraces such acts; our data support the opposite conclusion. Rather, the problem lies in the fact that radicalization to violence in the Somali community is seen as a problem of very small proportion compared to gang problems. Given this, efforts to reduce radicalization to violence would likely be met with low levels of interest and enthusiasm. Worse still, CVE programs directed toward Muslim or Somali youth may have the unintended consequence of stigmatizing and labeling members of the community. Interventions that stigmatize individuals are likely to backfire by reducing that individual’s stake in conformity, blocking their attempts to gain personal significance or by shaping behavior in a self-fulfilling prophecy. Furthermore, the strong sense that radicalization to violence is the result of individual-level problems (e.g., “crazy” people) means that programs focused broadly on communities will likely be perceived as misdirected. Finally, the perception that media seems to assume Somalis are terrorists suggests that the community is particularly sensitized to any efforts that may further stigmatize Somalis and Muslims as potential terrorists. Joining youth in resoundingly rejecting the label of “terrorist” or “extremist” for any particular subgroup of youth will be critical to the fair treatment of youth by both government and society.

In contrast, our data suggest that programs focused on addressing and reducing gang violence in Somali communities would be welcomed, particularly if they went beyond suppression-only efforts. Gangs are identified as a high-priority problem, and much of the data suggests a sense of desperation among the community to do something to stop the pipeline of children becoming involved with gangs. Our participants also readily identified Somali culture and religion as a strength and asset, suggesting that there could be considerable pride and enthusiasm for gang prevention efforts that built on, and reinforced, these inherent strengths and values. Our past work found that although Somali community–law enforcement relations are frequently perceived as aversive, there nonetheless are examples of positive policing with this community (Ellis et al., 2020).

Efforts to partner with communities to build opportunities and reduce incentives to join gangs could be an opportunity to build trust and connections. Such trust and partnership between communities and law enforcement is critical to the reduction of all kinds of crime and violence, including (though not limited to) radicalization to violence. The very fact that gangs are perceived as so pernicious within the Somali communities offers an opportunity for both local and federal law enforcement: Responding to the pressing needs as identified by the Somali community can build trust and partnership in relation to a shared goal of reducing gang involvement. These partnerships, while not built around the issue of radicalization to violence (indeed, perhaps precisely because they are not built around the issue of radicalization to violence), can nonetheless positively contribute to the overall prevention of radicalization to violence. Such partnerships are likely most effective when they involve positive interactions that do not reinforce stereotypes or support stigmatizing labels.

Finally, across all types of violence prevention efforts it is critical to think about the potential negative effects of labeling a group as “in need” of such services. Youth who already contend with marginalization from mainstream society and resources may be further marginalized and stigmatized as individuals if their larger community is labeled as “gang involved” or “at risk for radicalization.” Instead, population-level approaches that seek to address underlying structural contributors or universal programs that build resilience across whole communities (Muratori et al., 2016) may be the most effective means of reducing risk for multiple types of violence without adding the burden of labeling and stigma to vulnerable communities.

Footnotes

Acknowledgments

We thank Naima Agalab of the Refugee and Immigrant Assistance Center, who has been a partner in our work with the Somali community from the beginning and has provided leadership and training in their efforts to build community leadership teams in other cities. We thank Somali community advisors Farah Aw-Osman, Fatuma Hussein, Sharif Mohammed, and Rilwan Osman for their guidance and invaluable contribution to this project. We also thank Osob Issa for her efforts on recruitment and obtaining consent. And finally, we thank the community youth who took time to share their stories.

Declaration of Conflicting Interests

The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This research was supported by the Boston Children’s Hospital Research Faculty Council grant and the National Institute of Justice (2014-ZA-BX-0001). The findings and conclusions expressed in this report are solely those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the official views of Boston Children’s Hospital or the U.S. Department of Justice. The authors have no financial or other conflicts of interest regarding this report.

ORCID iD

B. Heidi Ellis

Notes

Author Biographies

B. Heidi Ellis, PhD, is an associate professor of psychology in the Department of Psychiatry at Boston Children’s Hospital (BCH) and Harvard Medical School, and is director of the Refugee Trauma and Resilience Center at BCH. Her work focuses on understanding and promoting refugee youth mental health and adjustment, with a particular emphasis on understanding how trauma exposure, violence, and social context impact developmental trajectories.

Scott H. Decker, PhD, is foundation professor of criminology and criminal justice at Arizona State University. His research focuses primarily on gangs. He published Competing for Control: Gangs and the Social Order of Prisons (Cambridge University Press) in 2019 with David Pyrooz.

Saida M. Abdi, PhD, LICSW, is an assistant professor in the School of Social Work in the College of Education and Human Development at the University of Minnesota, Twin Cities. She is a clinical social worker, and an expert in refugee trauma and resilience. She is the co-author of the book Mental Health Practice with Immigrant and Refugee Youth: A Socioecological Framework (American Psychological Association, 2019).

Alisa B. Miller, PhD, is a research associate at the Refugee Trauma and Resilience Center at BCH, and a licensed psychologist. Her work focuses on how trauma, migration, and culture shape development and impact life trajectories. She is interested in increasing health equity among refugee and immigrant groups, as well as the well-being of all youth in U.S. communities.

Colleen Barrett, MPH, is a program coordinator at the Refugee Trauma and Resilience Center at BCH. She has a background in cultural anthropology and is interested in health disparities among refugee populations and how psychosocial research can be integrated with community-based work as part of the approach to reducing such disparities. She received her MPH with a concentration in international health from Boston University.

Alisa K. Lincoln, MPH, PhD, is an inter-disciplinary professor of sociology and health sciences and director of the Institute for Health Equity and Social Justice Research at Northeastern University. Her research examines the way that social exclusion and marginalization contribute to and are consequences of poor mental health through the development of innovative models to increase community involvement in research.

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