Abstract
This article explores the security challenges posed by foreign fighter returnees. It argues that—contrary to popular belief—most foreign fighters do not die on battlefields or travel from conflict to conflict. They return home. This means that law enforcement, intelligence, and other security officials should expect unprecedented numbers of returnees from Syria and Iraq should a ceasefire hold. The challenge posed by returnees is threefold: Recidivism rates are uncertain, law enforcement cannot manage the numbers of prospective returnees alone, and returnees from non-Western countries also pose a threat to the United States. Findings suggest that a global architecture should be put in place to mitigate the threats from foreign fighter returnees.
On November 13, 2015, terrorists associated with the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria (ISIS) attacked the Stade de France, Bataclan Concert Hall, as well as restaurants and bars in Paris’s 11th District. One hundred twenty-nine people died (Higgins, 2015). The assailants included seven individuals from France and Belgium, who had fought previously in the Levant, and two Iraqis sent by ISIS to Europe for the attack (“Kill Them All Wherever You Find Them,” 2016). Further investigations revealed that an additional 21 individuals provided logistical support for the attacks, seven of whom also were foreign fighter returnees (“Suspect Salah Abdeslam,” 2016).
The Paris attacks exemplify the security challenge posed by foreign fighters: defined as individuals who travel abroad to fight against so-called “corrupt” Muslim regimes or to expel foreign occupying forces. Some are recruited by terrorist groups based on relationships, knowledge, or experience. Others come to believe in the necessity of political violence without ties to a recruiter. They act on these beliefs by traveling to another country to fight. Some foreign fighters subsequently return home to conduct attacks. But, beyond this immediate threat, still others become recruiters or inspire local residents to become terrorists.
This article explores the nature and extent of the challenge posed by foreign fighter returnees. It argues that—contrary to popular belief—most foreign fighters do not die on battlefields or travel from conflict to conflict. Past experience instead indicates that they return home. This means that security officials should expect unprecedented numbers of foreign fighter returnees from Syria and Iraq should a ceasefire hold. The policy challenge posed by foreign fighter returnees is threefold: First, recidivism rates are uncertain; second, the sheer numbers of foreign fighters today—31,500 total and 20% from the West—suggest that law enforcement cannot manage the threat alone; and third, returnees from non-Western countries also pose a threat to the U.S. homeland (Pizzi, 2015; Zengerle, 2015). The article concludes that a global architecture should be put in place to mitigate the threats from foreign fighter returnees.
Data Sources and Methods
The general consensus among commentators is that foreign fighters do not represent a significant threat to the United States (Byman & Shapiro, 2014). A number of studies have reinforced this consensus, arguing that foreign fighters relocate to other conflicts. For example, Hegghammer (2010, 2010-2011) has found that foreign fighters often travel from conflict to conflict, bringing a pan-Islamic worldview with them. But just because foreign fighters affect local religious beliefs when they relocate to a conflict zone, does not mean that a majority of them do so. Indeed, Hegghammer (2010) references Saudi officials who claim that most if not all of the Saudi fighters returned home after they left Afghanistan in early 1990s. Abdel Bari Atwan (2012) similarly notes that a majority of Saudis and Yemenis received a heroes’ welcome upon their return from Afghanistan.
In addition, a number of studies suggest that, upon returning home, foreign fighters do not immediately engage in violence. Hegghammer (2010) makes this observation in the context of Saudi returnees. Conboy (2006) argues that Indonesian officials did not consider foreign fighter returnees from Afghanistan a threat, because they did not reengage in violence locally. And, more recently, studies of Western foreign fighters have noted that many are not ideologically driven or committed to pan-Islamism and, thus, unlikely to conduct attacks upon their return home. These more recent studies generally place the threats posed by individuals inspired by ISIS (and al-Qaeda) above the threat of Western returnees. They include ISIS in the West released by the New America Foundation (Bergen, Schuster, & Sterman, 2015) and ISIS in America from George Washington University’s Program on Extremism (Vidino & Hughes, 2015). But just because returnees do not reengage in violence right away, does not mean that they do not pose a security risk. In the case of Saudi Arabia, for example, returnees from Afghanistan did not immediately turn to violence, but their families represented the main recruitment pool for the terrorist group, al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula, over a decade later (Hegghammer, 2010).
Still other studies have noted that security services have begun to arrest and kill foreign fighters at a high rate (Byman & Shapiro, 2014; Perlinger & Milton, 2016). This represents the most persuasive logic. But the data are problematic. Perlinger and Milton (2016) note that foreign fighters, especially those from the West, are dying at high rates on the battlefield. Nonetheless, they also admit that this finding is based on an incomplete dataset. Other estimates suggest lower death rates. A report by the Soufan Group (Barrett, 2014) states that 7% have been killed. Byman and Shapiro (2014), from the Brookings Institution, reference European intelligence estimates of 20 killed. A report by al-Manar television, closely associated with Lebanese Hizballah, has claimed a rate of 37 (“9936 al-Qaeda-Linked Arabs Killed in Syria,” 2013). These numbers suggest that the death rate of foreign fighters on the battlefields of Syria and Iraq could range from 7% to 37 %. This range is too wide to be able to conclude with confidence that returnees will not pose a significant threat.
The data on foreign fighter arrests also are less-than-encouraging. In August 2016, the United Nations reported that between 10% and 30% of foreign fighters in Syria and Iraq had returned home (“UN: Up to 30%,” 2016). Little evidence suggests that law enforcement agencies have been able to keep pace. In Western Europe alone, a dataset prepared for this study captures 27 attacks and 19 plots linked to ISIS between January 2014 and July 2016. Eighteen of these involve returnees either as operatives or logisticians. If those in which foreign fighter involvement is “unknown” are removed (10 attacks or plots), this equates to 50% of all the attacks and plots. These numbers indicate that even small amounts of returnees can disrupt the security of civilian populations. Thus, despite the consensus that returnees do not pose a significant threat to the United States, there is enough uncertainty surrounding prior studies to merit a closer look.
Methods
To do this, this article presents the findings from qualitative analyses of two populations of returnees from Afghanistan in the late 1980s and early 1990s, loosely referred to as the “Arab Afghans.” The Arab Afghans are a useful point of departure because they were the single largest group of foreign fighters (20,000-25,000) prior to the current conflict (Hegghammer, 2010-2011). Iraq had an estimated 5,000 foreign fighters between 2004 and 2009 (Michaels, 2008). Three thousand traveled to Bosnia to fight against the Serbs (Erjavec, 2009). Similarly, although al-Qaeda leaders envisioned Afghanistan as a stopover on the way to establishing an Islamic caliphate elsewhere, they only were a portion of the Arab Afghans. Others brought their families and intended to remain in Afghanistan (al-Tawil, 1997b). These intentions parallel those foreign volunteers attracted by the ISIS declaration of an Islamic caliphate in Syria and Iraq.
Specifically, this article examines the historical experiences of the Afghan veterans who returned home to Algeria and Indonesia. Algerians were the largest population of fighters in Afghanistan from North Africa and the second largest overall after those from Saudi Arabia (R. K. Cragin, personal communications with journalist and academic, Algiers, September 2016). 1 Many of the Algerians who traveled to Afghanistan brought their families along with them and intended to remain (al-Tawil, 1997b; R. K. Cragin, personal communications with journalist and academic, Algiers, September 2016). Finally, very little in-depth research has focused on Algerian foreign fighters.
Indonesians are the second case study. Like the fighters from Algeria, they were the largest population in Afghanistan from Southeast Asia. 2 But, unlike those from Algeria, all of the Indonesian fighters intended to return home after training in Afghanistan (Conboy, 2006). Equally important, returnees did not immediately reengage in violence upon arrival in Indonesia—a useful contrast to the Algerian returnees. In the end, the objective in choosing the two case studies in this article was to explore lesser-known populations as well as to illustrate a range of possible threats posed by foreign fighter returnees.
Data Sources
Because little is known about returnees from Algeria and Indonesia, this article relies on primary sources and field research. For primary sources, the article uses declassified U.S. government documents written on the topic of Arab Afghans and released as part of the National Archives. This article also draws on internal al-Qaeda memos and letters, captured by U.S. security forces on the battlefields of Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Iraq, and released to the public through the West Point Academy and the U.S. Office of the Director of National Intelligence (ODNI). Like with the declassified U.S. government documents, these primary data sources provide insight into the scope of the foreign fighter challenge. But, rather than articulating the perspective of U.S. officials and their allies, they present the ideas of the fighters themselves.
This article also draws on autobiographies written by, and interviews conducted with, Arab Afghans. Some are available in English, but others were translated from their original languages. These documents are useful because they provide an important counterpoint to the previously mentioned captured sources, which focus almost exclusively on al-Qaeda.
Beyond written and published sources, the conclusions reflect field research in both Algeria and Indonesia. Twenty-seven semistructured interviews were conducted with government officials, academics, and journalists in these countries. Three returnees living in Indonesia also made themselves available for interviews. Many interviews were conducted in English, but some were conducted in Bahasa Indonesian, French, and Arabic with translation services provided.
Finally, some readers will note that this article refers to a dataset of attacks and plots by Western returnees. This dataset initially was built at the National Defense University as part of another study on the November 2015 Paris attacks (Cragin, 2017). The source material includes a list of attacks and plots released by the New York Times in July 2016, other press reports, official statements, and ISIS social media. If an individual, directly associated with the attack or plot had traveled abroad to fight in Syria and Iraq, it was noted in this dataset.
Terminology and Context
This article uses the terms foreign fighters to identify individuals who travel abroad to fight and Western foreign fighters to distinguish those who are citizens of countries in North America, Western Europe, or Australia. Foreign fighters are not a new phenomenon. Examples date back to the mid-1800s and even beyond (Malet, 2014). But the topic has gained greater salience in recent years due to the large numbers who traveled to Syria and Iraq between 2012 and 2016. In response to this recent surge, the United Nations passed Security Council Resolution 2178 in September 2014, encouraging members to strengthen laws to minimize the number of foreign volunteers traveling abroad (Sengupta, 2014).
Foreign fighter “returnees” are individuals who fight abroad and then relocate back to their country-of-origin. More often than not, returnees are presented as distinct from “lone wolves” or “lone actors” in the lexicon of terrorism studies. Lone wolves, as indicated by the analogy, exist separately from a structured terrorist or insurgent group. Sometimes they become involved in terrorism independently, but they also can have ties to recruiters online. Lone actors present a unique problem to law enforcement or intelligence officials. Because of their lack of ties or very loose ties to organized networks, it is more difficult to disrupt plots by lone actors (9/11 Review Commission, 2015). But just because foreign fighters are distinct from lone wolves does not mean that it is easier to identify, monitor, and/or arrest returnees. Examples exist of foreign fighters traveling back and forth from the United States and Europe to Syria without being discovered. 3
Although foreign fighters and lone actors, theoretically, could emerge from any extremist movement, the primary concern in U.S. policy circles emanates from the Salafi-jihadi movement. Salafists want to revert to early practices within Islam. They are, by nature, religiously and socially conservative, but not necessarily violent. “Salafi-jihadism” is a term often used to refer to those who want to force the adoption of these practices through the use of violence. Some within this movement, such as ISIS, focus on the “near enemy,” or Muslim countries that do not use Islamic law in its most pure form as the core of its legal structures. Others emphasize violent attacks on the “far enemy,” namely, the United States (Gerges, 2005; Kepel, 2002). The most prevalent example of the latter is al-Qaeda.
If the Salafi-jihadi movement has generated foreign fighters in the past, and if these fighters have engaged in both guerrilla warfare locally and terrorist attacks abroad, why do we see greater numbers of foreign fighters in Syria and Iraq today? A variety of possible explanations exist. ISIS’s social media campaign is viewed by security officials as highly effective (Johnson, 2015). Sectarianism has fueled the conflict in Syria and Iraq more than other conflicts. It is simply easier to get to Syria today than Afghanistan in the 1980s. Answering the question, “why,” is outside the scope of this article. But the rationale used by ISIS to recruit these fighters provides context for the analysis.
ISIS and Foreign Fighters
Evidence suggests that ISIS leaders have envisioned parallel roles for foreign fighters since its inception: future citizens of the new Islamic caliphate and potential external operatives. For example, when al-Adnani announced the creation of an “Islamic State” in June 2014, he also declared that all Muslims were obligated to transfer their allegiance and take up residency in this newly formed caliphate (Abu Muhammad al-Adnani, 2014; Ali, 2014). This declaration was aimed not only at local sympathizers in Syria and Iraq but also at prospective foreign fighters:
. . . We clarify to the Muslims that with this declaration of khilāfah it is incumbent upon all Muslims to pledge allegiance to the khalīfah Ibrāhīm and support him (may Allah preserve him). The legality of all emirates, groups, states, and organizations, becomes null by the expansion of the khilāfah’s authority and arrival of its troops to their areas. . . . So rush O Muslims and gather around your khilāfah, so that you may return as you once were for the ages, kings of the earth and knights of war. Come so that you may be honored and esteemed, living as masters with dignity . . . Come O Muslims to your honor, to your victory. By Allah if you disbelieve in democracy, secularism, nationalism as well as all of the other garbage and ideas from the west, and rush to your religion and creed, then by Allah, you will own the earth . . . This is the promise of Allah to you. (Abu Muhammad al-Adnani, 2014)
This emphasis on Muslim emigration from existing homelands to Syria arguably explains, in part, divergences in patterns between foreign fighter flows to Syria today and the recent past. ISIS leaders view foreign fighters as future citizens of their new state. So they want not only male fighters, as was the previous pattern, but also professionals and women (Felter & Fishman, 2008). This increases the pool of prospective volunteers.
Furthermore, al-Adnani presented ISIS as an alternative—a better alternative—to al-Qaeda at the vanguard of the Salafi-jihadi movement. The announcement sent shockwaves through sympathizers. Some chose sides right away. Others waited to see how the fracture would manifest on-the-ground (Awad & Tadros, 2015; Carlino, 2015; Zenn, 2015). But foreign fighters continued to be encouraged to travel to Syria to fight against the Assad regime by both sides. In fact, ISIS released a pamphlet titled “Hijrah to the Islamic State,” in 2015 that outlined how recruits should get to Syria. This pamphlet was a compilation of stories of advice from fighters who had made the journey to Syria successfully in the past:
People who leave to get to Syria do not tell anyone, not even family. Travelers to Syria usually want to reach Turkey. But for safety reasons, they buy a ticket for an indirect holiday country like Spain or Greece . . . . . . Many emigrants now enter Turkey, go to a hotel, and then contact their Twitter contact. Their contact will leave Syria, meet them in their hotel (it’s important to meet before crossing for security) and they will together go to Sanliurfa in Turkey—it is safer because it is closer to al-Raqqah—the capital of the Islamic State—in Syria. (“Hijrah to the Islamic State,” 2015) That said, evidence suggests that ISIS leaders very early on envisioned a parallel use of foreign fighters: external operations. Investigations into the November 2015 Paris attacks, for example, revealed that Abaaoud was placed in charge of such attacks in Europe by al-Adnani in early 2014 (Higgins & de Freytas-Tamura, 2015; Callimachi, 2016). Abaaoud sent Mehdi Nemmouche home in May 2014 to attack the Jewish Museum in Brussels (“How a Secretive Branch of ISIS,” 2016). Furthermore, ISIS leaders reportedly met in Tabqah, Syria, in November 2015 to discuss expanding their campaign in Europe, utilizing foreign fighter returnees (Chulov, 2016).
ISIS’s strategic vision for foreign fighters—new citizens and external operatives —provides the context for this article. Today, security officials are being asked to mitigate threats emanating from the convergence of (a) an unprecedented number of foreign fighters and (b) increased emphasis by ISIS on attacks against the West. But questions still remain as to the extent of the threat posed by returnees, the nature of this threat, and the most appropriate response. To inform this debate, the remaining sections of this article examine the historical impacts of foreign fighter returnees in two countries: Algeria and Indonesia.
Case Studies
This section explores the nature and extent of the threat posed by foreign fighter returnees through an examination of historical case studies. The section begins with an overview of the history of the Arab Afghans. Subsequent paragraphs continue on to provide analyses of the experiences of the foreign fighters once they returned to Algeria and Indonesia.
Brief History of the Arab Afghans
Approximately 20,000 to 25,000 foreign fighters traveled to Afghanistan between 1984 and 1992 (Burke, 2003; Hegghammer, 2010-2011). They came from a wide variety of countries and for numerous reasons. But many were motivated to fight against Soviet forces in Afghanistan and the prospects of establishing a new Islamic caliphate (al-Dhiyabi, 2006; Anas, 2002; Hamid, n.d.; Muhammad, 1991). In this sense, it is arguable that the ideological justification used by ISIS and al-Qaeda to recruit foreign fighters today, their training in-country, and the likely expectations of returnees all have roots in the 1980s and 1990s.
The ideological justification for the Arab mujahideen or foreign fighters emerged from propaganda materials written and released through the Maktab al-Khidamat or Office of Services. Established by Palestinian Abdullah Azzam and funded partly by Osama bin Laden, one of the primary purposes of Maktab al-Khidamat was to recruit and support foreign fighters in Afghanistan (al-Dhiyabi, 2006; Anas, 2002). The most well-known pamphlet was Defense of Muslim Lands by Azzam (1984), which argued that Muslims had an individual religious duty to fight against enemy forces occupying Muslim lands.
Most firsthand accounts by foreign fighters—autobiographies and published interviews—indicate that Maktab al-Khidamat helped to generate an influx of foreign fighters to Afghanistan (Anas, 2002). But some sources disagree. For example, the Egyptian Mustafa Hamid (n.d.), author of “Chatter From the Worlds’ Rooftop,” downplayed the impact of Azzam. From Hamid’s perspective, the Afghans themselves played the biggest role in recruiting Arab foreign fighters, during their trips to the Arab world as they sought support against the Soviets.
Either or both accounts could be true. Foreign fighters traveled to Afghanistan for a variety of reasons. It is well known, for example, that Egyptian fighters, for the most part, were escaping prosecution in their country (al-Zayyat, 2004; Qasim et al., 1996). Similarly, Osama bin Laden reportedly made five trips to Saudi Arabia between November 1986 and May 1987 alone for recruitment purposes (Hegghammer, 2010). So it appears that they were recruited through multiple avenues. In the end, the number of foreign fighters swelled from 15 in 1984 to an estimated 20,000 to 25,000 by 1992. The largest populations came from Saudi Arabia, Algeria, Yemen, and Egypt, respectively (Anas, 2002; Atwan, 2012; Hegghammer, 2010; R. K. Cragin, personal communications with journalist and academic, Algiers, September 2016).
Most of the foreign fighters resided in a series of safe houses and training camps in Pakistan. According to some accounts, over 100 training camps existed along the border between Pakistan and Afghanistan (Atwan, 2012; Coll, 2004). The purpose of these camps was twofold: First, provide guerrilla warfare know-how to incoming recruits, and second, indoctrinate them on Salafi-jihadi ideology (Salah, 2001). Several journalists have published investigative reports about the war in Afghanistan, and academics have studied the early history of al-Qaeda in Afghanistan. These sources include Coll’s (2004) Ghost Wars, Atwan’s (2008) Secret History of al-Qaeda, Bergen’s (2006) The Osama bin Laden I Know, Wright’s (2006) The Looming Tower, Burke’s (2003) al-Qaeda and Muhammad’s (1991) The Arab Supporters in Afghanistan. These publications, as well as the firsthand accounts of former Arab Afghans, indicate that it was in these camps that the foreign fighters began to consider how best to implement the lessons of Afghanistan “back home.” Take an interview with Abu Hamzah on his experiences:
When I visited Afghanistan, many centers were opened to absorb those who were living there and could not return to their countries. They also started to learn the lessons of the Afghanistan experience and focus on their own countries’ conditions. (Gharib, 1999)
This statement reveals two of the three basic expectations held by the Arab Afghans. First, some expected to remain in Afghanistan, either because they believed in the newly established caliphate or because they could not return home due to security conditions. Second, others expected to return home to fight for the creation of a caliphate. And, third, still others wanted to take the lessons from Afghanistan elsewhere.
In the end, the decision to stay or go was not completely in the hands of the Afghan veterans, and evidence suggests that most departed. They left in two waves. Many departed in 1989 after Soviet forces withdrew and, in parallel, Abdullah Azzam was assassinated. Some, such as Musa al-Qarni, expressed disillusionment with the infighting among the Arab Afghans as the reason for their departure (al-Dhiyabi, 2006).
The second wave of departures began in 1992 after Kabul was captured by the Afghan mujahideen (Hegghammer, 2010; McGirk, 1993; Salah, 2001). This second wave gained momentum after Pakistani authorities determined that the Arab presence was problematic. In February 1993, Ramzi Yousef—an Arab Afghan—orchestrated an attack on the World Trade Center in New York City, killing six individuals and wounding over 1,000. Seven months later, Yousef plotted an attack against then-President Bhutto of Pakistan (Khan, 1995b). These attacks drew negative attention to the Arab Afghans residing along the border area. Pakistan forced many of them to leave (al-Fadl, 2001; Coll, 2004; Salah, 2001). According to the South Asia Terrorism Portal, the Pakistan government issued a report in April 1993, stating that 6,170 Arab Afghans resided in training camps along the border (“International Linkages of Islamist Terrorist Outfits,” n.d.). By November 1995, some local news sources in Islamabad reported that this number had shrunk to approximately 1,200 (Ahmad, 1995), and others cited official sources who stated that “scores” were present (Khan, 1995a). These reports suggest that less than 1,200 of the original cohort of 20,000 to 25,000 Arab Afghans remained in the region as of 1995.
Where did they go? It is well known that bin Laden chartered an airplane and left Pakistan with approximately 500 fighters, settling in Sudan (al-Fadl, 2001; Atwan, 2012; Coll, 2004). Other smaller groups subsequently joined him in Sudan (Burke, 2011). Another collection of Arab Afghans, an estimated 2,000, traveled to other conflict zones. These relocated to Yemen, Somalia, Tajikistan, Chechnya, the Philippines, and especially, Bosnia (al-Fadl, 2001; al-Sumali, n.d.; Erjavec, 2009; Kohlmann, 2004; Muqaddam, 2003). 4 But these numbers—those Arab Afghans who remained in Pakistan, traveled to Sudan, and other conflict zones—add up to at most 4,200 individuals or 17% to 21% of the total number estimated to be in South Asia between 1984 and 1993. The rest apparently went home.
This conclusion—that approximately 80% of the Arab Afghans returned home —can be substantiated through what is known about the largest populations of Arab Afghans. As mentioned previously, Algerians were the second largest population with 7,000 combatants (R. K. Cragin, personal communication with journalist, Algiers, September 2016). It also is generally agreed that Saudis represented the single largest population of Arab Afghans, although the exact numbers are unspecified (Anas, 2002; Atwan, 2012; Hegghammer, 2010). Given this lack of specificity, it seems reasonable to estimate that there were 8,000 Saudi combatants. If correct, these numbers suggest that Saudis and Algerians, combined, represented between 60% and 75% of the total population. Furthermore, 70% of the Algerian Arab Afghans—4,900 individuals—returned home (R. K. Cragin, personal communication with journalist, Algiers, September 2016). All known studies on Saudi Arab Afghans indicate that a higher proportion returned home, because they were welcomed as heroes. Thus, if even a slightly higher proportion of Saudis returned home as compared with Algerians—75% or 6,000—then, added to those from Algeria, this means that an estimated 10,900 of the Arab Afghans returned to Saudi Arabia or Algeria.
However, Saudis and Algerians were not the only Arab Afghans who returned home. According to an interview with a leader of the Yemeni Arab Afghans, Sheikh Tariq al-Fadli, all of the Yemenis returned home after 1993 (al-Hammadi, 1999). Estimates for the number of Yemeni combatants in Afghanistan also are unclear and range from four to 7,000. But the general consensus, as discussed previously, is that they represented the third largest population of foreign fighters (R. K. Cragin, personal communications with retired Yemeni official, 2016; Anas, 2002; Atwan, 2012; Hegghammer, 2010). If we estimate, based on this information, that 5,000 Yemenis fought in Afghanistan and 90% returned home, then the numbers increase to 15,400 returnees. Next, add the estimated 1,350 combatants from Southeast Asia; all of which reportedly returned home (Page, J., personal communication with returnee, Indonesia, 2016). If we again estimate that, realistically, only 90% returned home, this increases the number to 16,615 returnees. Admittedly, these numbers are approximates, but they yield the following calculation (see Table 1): 1,200 remained in Pakistan; 1,000 relocated to Sudan; 2,000 combatants left for other conflicts; and at least 16,615 returned home. This equates to 20,815 of the 21,350 total known population of Arab Afghans. The unaccounted for 535 individuals could have returned home or traveled to other locations. But, taking the known populations, these basic estimates reveal that approximately 80.5% returned home.
“Arab Afghan” Returnees.
This number includes all of Southeast Asia, which can be divided as follows: 850 from Indonesia and 500 from other countries.
Algeria
The story of the Afghan veterans only represents a small chapter in the wider narrative on the civil war in Algeria during the mid-1990s. That said, this lesser-known story acts as a caution for those responsible to mitigate the impact of foreign fighter returnees from Syria and Iraq. The returnees played a key role in the split between the Islamic Salvation Front (FIS) and the Armed Islamic Group (GIA). They also led the GIA during its early years. But, equally important, the Arab Afghans established a far reaching logistics network to support their fight in Algeria that stretched into Europe. This network became operational and sponsored attacks against targets in France in 1995. The case of the Arab Afghans from Algeria, therefore, demonstrates the threat posed by returnees not only back home but also against the West.
An estimated 7,000 Algerians fought as part of the mujahideen in Afghanistan during the 1980s, bringing an additional 7,000 family members with them (R. K. Cragin, personal communication with journalist, Algiers, September 2016). While in Afghanistan, many of them had received training in the camps linked to al-Qaeda, and so they had ties to Arab Afghans from other parts of the Middle East (Muqaddam, 2003). Given these relationships, it is unsurprising that some Algerians joined Osama bin Laden in Sudan and others traveled to Bosnia or Yemen to fight in local conflicts. That said, most—an estimated 70% or 4,900—left Afghanistan after the death of Abdullah Azzam in 1989 and returned home to Algeria (R. K. Cragin, personal communications with journalist and academic, Algiers, September 2016; Filiu, 2009). They had become disillusioned with the infighting among the mujahideen and disappointed in the direction of the so-called caliphate in Afghanistan. One Arab Afghan from Algeria reflected this mind-set in an interview with al-Hayat stating,
I am confident that the Islamic state will be established. We tried in Afghanistan and the experiment failed. We tried in Bosnia and the experiment failed there too. We also tried in Chechnya and elsewhere. We now expect it to take place in a place like Algeria at the hands of a movement like Algeria’s movement. (al-Tawil, 1997b)
Upon their return home, many of the Algerian veterans settled in Algiers and joined with the FIS political party. Said Makhloufi, for example, became a member of the FIS Majlis al-Shura or consultative council (Ashour, 2009). FIS articulated many of the same objectives as the Arab Afghans in that they sought the creation of a caliphate ruled by Islamic law. But FIS initially pursued this objective through nonviolent means and electoral politics. In early 1992, the relationship between FIS and the Arab Afghans soured after the Algerian government canceled a second round of elections. Several Arab Afghans, including Said Makhloufi, eventually split with the FIS and joined the newly established GIA with an armed wing referred to as the “afghansi” (Ashour, 2009; Filiu, 2009; Muqaddam, 2003).
The Afghansi actually had conducted an attack in Algeria several months earlier. In November 1991, al-Tayyeb al-Afghani had led an attack on Algerian barracks near the Tunisian border (Muqaddam, 2003). They quickly built their momentum and reputation for violence. Initially, the Afghansi included mostly Arab Afghans who had trained in al-Qaeda camps in Afghanistan. But soon their recruitment efforts widened to incorporate local fighters and even sympathizers from other countries, such as Libya (Muqaddam, 2003). By 1994, experts estimated that the GIA controlled approximately 10,000 fighters (Ashour, 2009). And, of the estimated 4,900 Arab Afghans from Algeria, over 90% fought in the local civil war (R. K. Cragin, personal communications with journalist, Algiers, 2016). 5 Their motto, first articulated by GIA ideologue Qari Sa’id, himself an Afghan veteran, was “no dialogue, no reconciliation, no truce” (Filiu, 2009, p. 217).
The civil war in Algeria, in this sense, included two primary fronts. First, fighters associated with both FIS and the GIA fought government security forces; and, second, they fought each other. Civilians experienced the brunt of the war with over 100,000 casualties between 1992 and 1995 (“80 Per Cent of Islamic Fighters,” 2000). The GIA also targeted journalists and expatriate workers, as well as Western diplomats (Marlow, 1996; Paul & Mcivor, 1995). In August 1993, for example, Murad Si-Ahmad, the leader of the GIA and another Arab Afghan, threatened all “infidels” and soon thereafter the GIA began killing European expatriates residing in Algeria. Twenty six individuals were killed between August and December 1993 (Filiu, 2009). In December 1994, GIA hijackers took control over an Air France flight bound from Algiers to Paris (Riding, 1994). The attackers claimed that they were attempting to halt France’s support to the Algerian government. And, in January 1995, several Western governments, including the United States, France, Germany, and Great Britain, received letters from the GIA demanding that they close their embassies in Algiers (Riding, 1995).
But the attacks were not limited to Algeria. In July 1995, GIA operatives conducted an attack on the subway in Paris, killing seven individuals and wounding an additional 80 (Paul & Mcivor, 1995). This attack, and another against the Arc de Triomphe, led to a series of arrests throughout Europe. The arrests occurred not only in France but also in Italy, Spain, Germany, Great Britain, and Switzerland (“The ‘A-Team of Islamic Extremists,’” 1999; “Islamic Extremists Use Europe,” 1995). Investigators discovered a vast network of Algerian and other Arab Afghans and their young recruits funneling resources to the conflicts in Algeria and Bosnia. This network also played an instrumental role in the attacks in Paris. When asked about these attacks, a spokesman for the GIA replied as follows:
First of all, this is up to the mujahidin and their amirs [leaders]. If they feel that there is pressure on them from abroad and they want to retaliate, they are allowed to do so, because they would respond to the injustice against them at any time, and in any place and manner that they see fit, as long as this does not contravene the Shariah [Islamic law]. (al-Tawil, 1997b)
Importantly, al-Qaeda leaders only had a tangential role in the GIA. Some early GIA leaders reportedly had ties to al-Qaeda in Sudan. But this relationship changed after Djamel Zitouni took control over the GIA in September 1994. Zitouni was suspicious of the Arab Afghans and began to purge the GIA of these veterans (Filiu, 2009; Muqaddam, 2003). He also refused Osama bin Laden’s request to establish training camps for foreign fighters in Algeria and expanded attacks against civilians (Muqaddam, 2003). By late 1996, al-Qaeda leaders and most other ideologues in the wider Salafi-jihadi movement had renounced their support for the GIA (al-Tawil, 1997a).
Indonesia
The experiences of the Afghan veterans from Indonesia present an interesting contrast to those from Algeria. Rather than engaging in violent jihad locally, right away, these veterans instead focused on the recruitment and training of local fighters. They participated in localized conflicts—such as the fighting in Ambon province—but did not confront the Indonesian government directly. They also did not focus on foreign targets. This posture changed after Osama bin Laden declared war against the United States in 1998, almost 10 years after the veterans had returned home. At this point, the Afghan veterans began to participate in plots throughout the region. These included the 2002 Bali bombings. So, in contrast with Algeria, the Indonesian case reveals that foreign fighters might appear to integrate peacefully, but they can present a threat even as much as a decade later.
An estimated 850 Indonesians traveled to Pakistan between 1984 and 1987 under the auspices of Darul Islam (DI) or the Muslim Brotherhood (Page, J., personal communications with Afghan veterans and academics, Jakarta, July 2016). 6 DI originated as part of Indonesia’s independence movement in the late 1940s. But, like other Salafi organizations, DI advocated for the creation of an Islamic caliphate in Indonesia. The original DI organization was destroyed eventually by the Indonesian military. But the ideas and personal networks remained within Indonesian society (Kibtiah, 2015).
Indeed, Abu Bakr Ba’asyir and Abdullah Sungkar adopted the idea of an Islamic caliphate and used this as the basis for the al-Mukmin Islamic School in Central Java in the early 1970s (Neighbour, 2005). The al-Mukmin School represented a central hub of recruits for the conflict in Afghanistan during the early 1980s (Conboy, 2006; Neighbour, 2005). The DI recruits—approximately 750—traveled to Pakistan in “five batches,” utilizing forged passports, via Malaysia and Singapore (Hwang & Ismail, 2015; Page, J., personal communications with Afghan veterans, Jakarta, July 2016). Another 100 Indonesians traveled with the support of the local Muslim Brotherhood. The volunteers from Indonesia joined approximately 500 other volunteers from throughout Southeast Asia in a camp run by Rasul Sayyaf named Ittihad Islami (Kibtiah, 2015; Ressa, 2003; Page, J., personal communications with Afghan veterans, Jakarta, July 2016).
Interestingly, unlike those from Algeria, the primary objective of the Indonesian foreign fighters was to obtain training on guerrilla warfare. The training course lasted between 2 and 3 years, and the Indonesian mujahideen fought in Afghanistan every 6 months to gain experience (Abas, 2005; Conboy, 2006; “‘Gun-Gun,’” 2004; Page, personal communications with academic, Jakarta, July 2016). This suggests that the intent of the foreign fighters, from the very beginning, was to bring their lessons home. It was unlikely that the Indonesian government fully understood this intent, because, according to multiple sources, they were complicit in the foreign fighters’ travel to Indonesia (Page, J., personal communications with academic and Afghan veterans, Jakarta, July 2016).
Like with the Algerians, the Indonesian foreign fighters began to return home in 1989 after the Soviets began their withdrawal and the assassination of Abdullah Azzam (Abas, 2005; “Gun-Gun,” 2004; Neighbour, 2005). They traveled via Malaysia, and according to former Afghan veterans, waited there for several months until receiving an assignment from DI (Page, J., personal communications with Afghan veterans, Jakarta, July 2016). A few remained in Malaysia because they were worried about being arrested in Indonesia (Abas, 2005). But most eventually made their way back home. The Afghan veterans were welcomed as heroes (Abuza, 2015). They built on this legitimacy and began to establish local training camps in preparation for a campaign to establish a caliphate in Indonesia. Indeed, according to one Afghan veteran, Rasul Sayyaf instructed each Afghan veteran to recruit 10 local fighters upon their return home (Page, J., personal communications with Afghan veterans, Jakarta, July 2016). Interestingly, it appears that other foreign fighters from Ittihad Islami and the camps in Afghanistan also came to Indonesia periodically to participate in or assist with local training efforts (Sim, 2013).
That said, not all of the Afghan veterans integrated easily back into DI or the Muslim Brotherhood. Some of them were impatient to begin to apply the lessons from Afghanistan. This faction, led in part by Abdullah Sungkar, established the Jemaah Islamiyah (JI) in late 1992 (Conboy, 2006). And, like with the FIS in Algeria, the creation of JI caused a split in the DI community. According to some firsthand accounts, most of the Afghan veterans joined JI, but the actual numbers are unclear (Abas, 2005; Page, J., personal communications with Afghan veterans, Jakarta, 2016). What is clear is that all of those who joined JI became actively involved in militant activities. Other Afghan veterans remained involved in militant activities, but were not members of JI, equating to a recidivism rate of slightly above 40% (Conboy, 2006).
In the mid-1990s, JI leaders divided responsibility for violent jihad in Southeast Asia into different operational units or mantiqis: Mantiqi 1 was responsible for Malaysia, Singapore, and Thailand; Mantiqi 2, Indonesia; Mantiqi 3, the Philippines, Brueni, Sarawek and Sabah (Malaysia), and Sulawesi and Kalimantan (Indonesia); and Mantiqi 4 was responsible for Irian Jaya and Australia (Ressa, 2003). JI assigned its members to various duties within these mantiqis in support of their agenda either within Indonesia or abroad, and many of their leaders had trained in Afghanistan (“Ba’asyir Trial,” 2004; Rabasa, 2005; Ressa, 2003). Afghan veteran, Hambali, for example, was sent to Thailand to establish JI cells in that country (Ressa, 2003). Others were sent to Bosnia to assist in the fight in the mid-1990s. And, eventually, other JI members provided support to Muslim militias in Ambon province in the late 1990s (Ressa, 2003; Page, J., personal communications with academic, Jakarta, July 2016).
Interestingly, like with the GIA, JI soon determined to conduct attacks against Western targets in the region. But, in contrast to GIA, this decision did not seem to be in response to localized pressure. That is, Indonesian security forces only began to monitor and arrest JI members in a concerted fashion after the September 2001 attacks by al-Qaeda, and JI members conducted attacks in Bali in October 2002. Prior to these events, several Afghan veterans were involved in plots against regional and Western targets. These included the following:
January 2000. Hambali hosted a 3-day al-Qaeda meeting in Malaysia, which was a precursor to the September 2001 attacks in the United States (Ressa, 2003).
May 2000. Imam Samudra participated in a series of attacks in Medan and was the field commander for the October 2002 Bali bombings (“Ba’asyir Trial,” 2004).
August 2000. Fathur Roman al-Ghozi was involved in an attack on the Philippine ambassador’s house in Jakarta (Page, J., personal communications with academic, Jakarta, July 2016).
December 2001. Eight of 13 JI operatives arrested by the Singapore government for a plot against U.S. navy vessels and companies had trained in Afghanistan (Ministry of Home Affairs, 2003).
In summary, like with the Arab Afghans in Algeria, this case study illustrates the scope of the threat posed by foreign fighter returnees. The Afghan veterans from Indonesia returned with the know-how to engage in guerrilla warfare. And, like the Algerian veterans, those from Indonesia eventually turned their attention to Western targets. Moreover, they had patience; many waited 10 years after their return from Pakistan to reengage in political violence. Finally, the Indonesian case study underscores the role that returnees can play in recruiting a new generation of local terrorists.
Conclusion
These two case studies are instructive as security officials consider the nature and scope of the threat from foreign fighters returning from Syria and Iraq. A strong majority of the Afghan veterans from both Algeria and Indonesia returned home. In fact, the proportion of those who went on to other conflict zones was so small as to be negligible. In comparison, approximately 20% of all Arab Afghan veterans either traveled elsewhere or remained in South Asia after 1993. For planning purposes, therefore, law enforcement and other security officials should expect roughly 80% of the foreign fighter populations in Syria and Iraq to return home after a ceasefire.
The recidivism rates—that is, the rate at which individuals reengaged in violence upon returning home from Afghanistan—in both Algeria and Indonesia also were significant. Ninety percent of the Arab Afghans from Algeria eventually joined and fought with the GIA. In some sense, this number can be explained by the civil war in Algeria, and so, it is tempting to dismiss this high rate of reengagement for the returnees. Afghan veterans from Indonesia, however, evidenced a recidivism rate of slightly more than 40%. And, unlike Algerian returnees, Indonesians were not plunged into a civil war immediately upon their return. They eventually engaged in sectarian conflict—with Christians in Ambon province—but this occurred more than 7 years after their return to Indonesia.
Comparatively speaking, the Saudi Arabia rehabilitation program in 2006 and 2007, for example, focused on returnees from Iraq as well as terrorists who acted within Saudi Arabia. This program reportedly had a 9% recidivism rate (Ansary, 2008). The Yemen rehabilitation program, in contrast, has had very high rates of recidivism, ranging up to 60%, depending on the source (Jones & Morales, 2012; Seifert, 2010). Thus, findings from the case studies suggest that foreign fighter returnees are subject to relatively high rates of recidivism with little or poor intervention programs.
Despite these findings, it would be easy to dismiss the threat of foreign fighter recidivism as a minor problem for law enforcement officials within the U.S. homeland. After all, of the 31,500 fighters in Syria and Iraq, only 20%—or 6,300—are estimated to come from North America, Western Europe, or Australia. Only about 250 come from the United States, so even a recidivism rate of 40% (or 100 returnees) seems manageable. But the case studies also reveal that, historically, returnees from other countries have plotted against the West both at home and abroad. This means that the U.S. homeland and citizens are vulnerable to attacks from an influx of foreign fighters to Western Europe, Canada, North Africa, the Middle East, and even Southeast Asia.
Furthermore, in both Algeria and Indonesia, the case studies revealed that foreign fighter returnees recruited others to their cause. The GIA, for example, eventually had 10,000 members. Not all of them were recruited by foreign fighters, but the Arab Afghans played an important role in leading and mobilizing these forces. Even more striking, Afghan veterans from Indonesia were instructed to recruit at least 10 individuals each, upon their return from Afghanistan. These instructions demonstrate the crucial role that returnees can have on the recruitment of local terrorist cells and even inspiring lone wolves. Taken together, the findings underscore the importance for security officials with responsibility both inside the United States and beyond to put into place a coherent strategy to deal with foreign fighter returnees.
This strategy should emphasize addressing foreign fighter returnees at a global level. That is, if more capable countries push the problem off onto less capable ones, or if some countries permit foreign fighters to take residence—for example, Sudan and Afghanistan in the 1990s—history demonstrates that this still represents a direct threat to the United States and its allies. Such a strategy should include intelligence cooperation abroad, military and police training to countries vulnerable to an influx of returnees, as well as other forms of assistance to countries that need help with rehabilitation programs. It also should include programs within the United States to not only simply incarcerate returnees, but also rehabilitate them so that, over the medium and long term, they do not recruit the next generation of foreign fighters.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to Jacqueline Page, Zainab al-Maliky, and Benjamin Hawthorne, who assisted in the research.
Author’s Note
The opinions expressed here represent the author’s own views and are not those of the National Defense University, Department of Defense, or U.S. Government.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This research was supported by a grant from the Program on Irregular Warfare at the National Defense University.
