The ‘lone’ terrorists are never alone

All appear to fit the profile of what have been called “lone wolves”. The term comes from US law enforcement in the middle of the last century, when it referred to violent criminals who did not belong to a bigger group, and was later used by right-wing extremists to describe a new type of terrorist who acted autonomously, though along broadly understood principles.

Lone wolves are thus terrorists who supposedly act alone, and have even been radicalised alone. Lone wolves, though their capacity to harm is typically much less than a major organised conspiracy, worry security services because, as they do not communicate with other known militants and do not show any signs of their extremism, they are hard to identify.

Yet the existence of lone wolves is something of a myth. Terrorism is a social activity. The mechanics of recruitment and organisation are not so dissimilar to those of other less nefarious activities, even if the psychological barriers to killing other people are higher. The personal histories of recent attackers suggest violence has its source not in mental illness, or inchoate rage, but in exposure to a contaminated ideological environment.

Mohammed Merah, who attacked a Jewish school in Toulouse during a shooting spree in which 12 died in 2012, is a good example. The 23-year-old was described as a “lone wolf” by officials at the time, but had been surrounded by a profound antisemitism since his childhood and a broader culture of extremism through his youth. He had finally travelled to Pakistan to meet up with a small fringe group run by a veteran European militant there.

Critically, these contacts are human ones, and “offline”. The internet is, of course, a potent vector of all ideas — positive and negative. There is no doubt that a virtual community of extremists exists and has had a significant role in some terrorist operations. Tamerlan Tsarnaev, a perpetrator of the Boston bombings, surfed conspiracy theory websites, read key jihadi texts online and downloaded the Protocols of the Elders of Zion in the months before his 2013 attack. But at some point the virtual has to become real and, without human contact, it rarely does.

On closer inspection, none of those involved in the attacks last week are “lone wolves” either.

The French killer had sufficient contacts with local Salafists to come to the notice of local security services, and sent images of the remains of his victim to a fighter in Syria who he apparently knew well. The Tunisian gunman, a young recent graduate, had become involved in extremist circles a year or so before the attack.

Kuwaiti authorities claim to have now broken up a small cell, probably part of a bigger network, which was responsible for the mosque blast there.

The lessons of this are evident. The threat from these solitary attackers may be lesser in terms of destructive capability but is no less worrying than the bigger conspiracies of a decade ago.

The world view of violent Islamic extremism has many parts. There is a belief that the West is decadent and weak, that other Muslims are backsliding hypocrites, a growing sectarian strand, a profound antisemitism, a belief that Daesh’s caliphate will restore the global Muslim community’s lost historic power and glory, and a strong homophobia. All contribute in different ways to the current threat.

Waves of terrorism typically last between 10 and 25 years — a generation. It is looking increasingly likely that the violence we saw between the early 1990s and 2010 or 2011 was one such wave. We now may be at the beginning of a new one. This is not a heartening thought.

Jason Burke is a journalist and author of ‘The 9/11 Wars’