Police officers stand guard on Aug. 1, 2024, at a house used by a terror suspect in Batu, East Java. (Antara/Irfan Sumanjaya)
Terrorism remains a persistent threat to nations around the world.
Indeed, the Global Terrorism Index, an annual chronicle of terrorism trends, found in its latest report that the number of countries that experienced attacks rose to 66 in 2024, the most since 2018. The rise of lone-wolf attacks made up 93 percent of fatal attacks across Western nations.
An alarming rise in far-right violent extremism has triggered some of this violence; meanwhile, ongoing conflicts fueled by the Islamic State (IS) group have sparked concern of again inspiring would-be terrorists around the world.
While their ideologies may differ, one thing all terrorists have in common is that they were radicalized. And this raises an important question: Can a person who once embraced terrorism and violence truly change?
As a researcher who studies soft power and ideological violence, I set out to answer that question by asking 24 Indonesian former terrorists and holding focus group discussions with ex-jihadists. These men and women were all convicted of crimes related to violent acts across the country. Fifteen of them were connected with the Southeast Asian terrorism network Jamaah Islamiyah (JI), nine were members of IS-related groups and one had links to both.
All have since been released from prison, after serving sentences ranging from 11 months to 15 years. They have walked away from radical ideologies and violence, choosing instead to rebuild and reconcile.
In conversations I had with them in person and via video and phone calls, they provided 69 recommendations on how terrorists could be de-radicalized. I boiled this down to six critical ideas about what it takes for someone to truly change.
First, hard power is not enough. Governments have long relied on security crackdowns, intelligence operations and harsh prison sentences to fight terrorism. These methods may be important, but they often miss the root causes.
In many cases, prison only deepens radical beliefs or helps militants form new networks. Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, the now deceased IS founder, for example, is thought to have become more radical during his time at Camp Bucca, a United States detention facility.
Some of the men and women I spoke to mentioned how they saw some convicts becoming more radicalized under the influence of other extremists. As such, locking up someone in the same facility as someone with similar or even more hard-line views may not help them de-radicalize.
Soft power approaches – ones that aim not just to lock away extremists but to help them walk away from extremism altogether – can be more effective.
Second, caseworkers are unsung heroes. I found that in Indonesia’s model, caseworkers who work with convicted terrorists are game changers. They work as government-connected personnel who closely engage with terrorists while still in prison, and more importantly, continue to do so after their release.
Caseworkers’ main responsibility is to prepare ex-militants for a normal life after their release. They are more than just parole officers or prison staff: They act as mentors, helpers and counselors.
One major challenge former terrorists encounter is economic survival.
Eight respondents admitted financial hardship as their biggest concern after release. This problem was seen as most challenging for those who did not have connections and required skills, relevant work experience and proper educational backgrounds. Even if they had the relevant talents and skills, their status as former terrorist detainees made it difficult to secure permanent jobs.
“This is an important phase, because if they cannot secure [jobs], they will likely return to violence,” one former terrorist told me.
The men and women I spoke with also acknowledged the importance of family support, psychological care, theological reflection and quality education for their children as important factors. Caseworkers are crucial in addressing these concerns, by helping to design tailored interventions built on personalized assessments of each individual’s challenges and aspirations.
Third, trust is everything. More than half of the former terrorists I spoke with said that developing bonds and trust with their caseworkers provided a turning point. The six months before and after release are especially crucial to prepare them for the reintegration process. If that transition fails, released terrorist convicts are prone to rejoining their old jihadist groups.
One former militant connected to JI recounted how a member of his previous group reached out to him after his release: “They kept calling and preaching to me until both of my ears hurt. I finally blocked his number.”
Building connections between caseworkers and terrorist convicts is an important catalyst for inmates to replace previous extremist networks. Caseworkers and their networks can become new social groups for former terrorists, replacing jihadist networks trying to re-recruit them.
Fourth, community matters. De-radicalization isn’t just personal; it’s communal. As such, it isn’t just the individual militants who need to be part of the process, so too does the community they are being released into.
“I felt moved when the community accepted me for who I was. That’s when I knew I had to change. I would never want to hurt them,” one female would-be suicide bomber told me.
After years behind bars, most former terrorist inmates return to society unsure how to secure their most basic needs, such as securing health coverage, a driver’s license or other identity documents. Caseworkers can guide them in obtaining those essentials, but it’s not the paperwork that brings healing: It is human acceptance that often makes the deepest impact. Here, too, caseworkers can help by convincing the former terrorists’ communities that they are no longer a threat.
Fifth is turning terrorists into changemakers. De-radicalized individuals have a unique power. They understand militant logic and can speak credibly to those still in extremist circles. As a result, they can gain trust and leverage their past to persuade other fellow terrorists to renounce violence in a way that many government-led intervention efforts cannot.
All 24 former militants I interviewed expressed a willingness to help others leave terrorism behind, and many of those I spoke with have become peer counselors, outreach workers and community ambassadors.
“We’d never mind helping the government to talk to other terrorists and induce them to quit from terrorism. They trust us more than they trust the government,” one former militant explained.
Sixth, clean governance matters, too. Another insight I discovered in my interviews was that corruption fuels extremism. Many former terrorists said that when government institutions felt rigged or unjust, radical ideologies that promised purity and fairness became more attractive.
“I had to bribe city officials to run my business here. An Islamic State group recruiter then convinced me to live in Syria, because I was told they have clean bureaucrats,” one released terrorist who never had a prior criminal record told me.
Almost 17 percent of the Indonesian respondents suggested that accountable public service, uncorrupt bureaucracy and a stronger rule of law could ease the de-radicalization process.
So, can violent extremists be de-radicalized? My research offers a hopeful yes, but with an important caveat: Effective de-radicalization is more likely to happen when caseworkers can facilitate interventions that strengthen former terrorists’ economic and social resilience during and after their incarceration.
These journeys are not easy or quick, but they happen. Transformation is possible not through coercion, but through compassion, opportunity and community support.
—
