Behind the headlines on violent radicalisation in Belgium

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Now sadly renowned for the police raids aimed at dismantling terrorist cells linked to the Paris attacks, the small Belgian neighbourhood of Molenbeek and its residents are struggling to deal with the sudden media attention descending on them.

Whilst the special forces searched number 47 on Rue Delaunoy, looking for Salah Abdeslam, suspected of having taken part in the Paris attacks, neighbours were gathering around journalists from all over the world.

“I don’t believe this story. Why would a jihadi hide here? We live well here in Molenbeek, it’s the politicians who want to give us a bad image. They don’t give a damn about us,” a woman in her forties, who was on her way to see a friend in the cordoned-off street, told Equal Times.

Similar comments came from the other neighbours. The younger ones are visibly angry with the journalists, who they deem responsible, along with politicians, for manipulating public opinion and fuelling Islamophobia.

Malou is one of Salah Abdeslam’s neighbours. For her, it is “impossible” that this “polite, well-educated” young man could have been in any way linked to violent Islamism. Yet it was his brother, Ibrahim, who blew himself up at the Comptoir Voltaire café in Paris, injuring three people.

His family are convinced that he did not intend to kill: “Maybe it was the stress,” his mother told the media.

 

The Belgium-Syria connection

The suspected mastermind of the 13 November attacks, Abdelhamid Abaaoud, is also from Molenbeek. A so-called Islamic State (IS) combatant, Abaaoud is one of the 500 or so Belgians who have gone to Syria and Iraq to join the ranks of IS.

As a proportion of its population, Belgium is the biggest exporter of foreign fighters to these two countries.

This violent radicalisation, often leading the young people concerned to fight with the Islamic State, is a relatively new phenomenon, of which no one really as yet understands the whys and wherefores.

It was in a bid to better decipher the phenomenon that the United Nations Working Group on the use of mercenaries visited Belgium in October. The group of experts met with several political leaders, families, associations, social workers and religious representatives. Their final conclusions will be published during the first half of 2016, but some preliminary observations have already emerged from their mission.

In an interview with Equal Times, Patricia Arias, a Chilean jurist and member of the working group, admits that “the phenomenon is so new that we are only just starting to develop an understanding of it. It is too soon to assess the policies, the measures taken. It has been two or three years, no more, and it is not enough time to comprehend a social phenomenon.”

In the Schaerbeek district of Brussels, which is also struggling with this problem, the person in charge of projects on violent radicalisation (who wishes to remain anonymous) confirms that “the observations made on the ground are not yet enough to build a typology”.

There are, however, a number of factors, ranging from a “need for adventure” to perceived injustices or the search for social relations. Affiliation with radical groups as well as catalysts such as a trauma, the death of a relative, the influence of a radicalised family member or an international event can also “push individuals in this direction”, she explains.

She concedes that “as a rule, it is most often individuals already affected by feelings of frustration and dissatisfaction regarding certain aspects of their life, society and/or politics. The sense of frustration is an important trigger.”

Contrary to popular misconception, studies reveal that “the people going to fight are from more advantaged-than-average socio-economic groups”. People whose families are financially dependent on them are, in fact, less likely to join jihadist groups. The same study shows that violent radicals have a higher level of education, adds our interviewee.

The UN working group, although unable to identify a typical portrait of the “violent radical” from its preliminary findings, lists several reasons for the departures to Syria. In addition to a desire for adventure, they include the need for a sense of belonging and acceptance, religious conviction, or humanitarian motives and the desire to help the Syrian people.

 

Cannon fodder

This was the case with Géraldine Henneghien’s son, whose name she would rather not reveal. He left for Syria at the end of 2013 and she was informed of his death by SMS in February 2015.

After completing secondary school, the young man, still undecided over whether to study physiotherapy, had tried to find a job.

He was unsuccessful, disadvantaged by his lack of qualifications and, his mother suspects, his origin and his surname – his father being Moroccan. The seeds of his radicalisation were sown during that time.

On the one hand, “he felt totally discriminated against because of his Moroccan roots, both at school and when looking for work” and, on the other, there was the massacre in Syria. “He needed to find a place in society, not to feel rejected anymore.”

“We didn’t see it coming until two weeks before his departure,” recounts Géraldine, who had immediately informed the police, to stop her son from going. “They were not able to do anything because he was of legal age.”

During his time in Syria, all his communication was closely monitored and observed by IS leaders. “We only had the right to talk about two things: the family and how everyone was doing, that was with me and his sister, and then criticising us because we weren’t good Muslims. Telling us to join the Islamic State, that was more with his father.”

One day, however, Géraldine received a call from her son that gave her renewed hope: “Mum, if I wanted to come back, would you be able to pay for my plane ticket? But if I come back to Belgium, you know it means going to prison.” His mother promised to pay for a flight to wherever he wanted to go. But her hope was short lived.

“A few hours later, he called me back to say that everything was fine after all, and that he was going to stay. The Daesh (IS) guys had got to him.” For Géraldine, enlisting with IS is like joining a sect. Whilst some young people go there full of ideals, they soon find themselves trapped in a dangerous, mafia-like structure, especially for the young men who have grown up in the West and who usually have no military experience or training.

“Our children are being used as cannon fodder over there,” concludes Géraldine.

The death of her son was coldly announced to her by text message, probably by one of the IS leaders. Nine months later, with no body and no funeral, she is unable to mourn the loss of her child.

She and other parents have set up an association to help those affected, to engage with the authorities and to advocate for the families, but also to raise awareness in schools and certain neighbourhoods.

The measures taken by the authorities have, however, done little to satisfy the families, and those specialised in the issue.

A freephone number has, indeed, been set up, Géraldine tell us, but it is not really functional – a criticism shared by Fabrice de Kerchove, project coordinator at the King Baudouin Foundation, which is above all working to support families affected by violent radicalisation and departures.

Another complex issue is the return of these “foreign fighters”.

Whilst for the families of returnees it is not always easy to accept the fact that their children, husbands or fathers have to go to prison when they have already taken the risk of fleeing IS, for sociologists and jurists, the issue is more complex.

For de Kerchove, there needs to be a “change of software” for the young people who come back, because although they have “disengaged” they are not necessarily “deradicalised”.

“There has to be a balance between security considerations and their psychological wellbeing. Being suspected of terrorism is often enough to be remanded in custody, which can radicalise them even further. Moreover, they often feel a great mistrust towards the institutions and society, and they are also traumatised by what they have seen or done, and prison does nothing to improve their mental state. A magistrate told me that she was horrified by the deterioration in the mental health of these repentant young men. But society’s security also has to be ensured.”

It is a concern also shared by the UN working group. One of the key recommendations made to the Belgian authorities is to ensure the reintegration of fighters returning from Syria.

The group points to “the lack of structured reintegration and rehabilitation programmes for the returnees” and recommends Denmark’s Aarhus model, a mentorship system, but one that is relatively costly – a challenge in times of austerity and the security crackdown following the Paris attacks of this year.

 

This article has been translated from French.