Tag Archive for: Counterterrorism

Special Report Issue 4 – Are we ready? Healthcare preparedness for catastrophic terrorism

In this report the authors suggest that while positive steps have been taken in recent years, there are deficiencies in our healthcare system for mass casualty care. It suggests that further steps need to be taken to meet our healthcare preparedness, response and recovery goals for mass casualty incidents.

While recognising that some hospital resource issues would need a response by the States, there are significant steps that can and should be taken by the Australian Government.

Tag Archive for: Counterterrorism

Canberra’s secrecy obsession feeds on security fears

The prime minister makes a good, glib debating point: nobody is above the law, including journalists.

The problem Scott Morrison glides by is a Canberra mindset and a pile of new laws that squeeze our democracy and freedoms—the classic problem of smothering, even killing, the thing you want to protect.

If a newspaper is a nation having a conversation with itself, Australia’s major papers—and broadcasters—have united to shout at the nation.

Savour a remarkable moment in Oz journalism, when the newspapers black out their front pages to protest at the culture of secrecy.

The media’s ‘Your right to know campaign’ asks for a suite of reforms:

 – The right to contest the application for warrants for journalists and media organisations;

– Exemptions for journalists from laws that would put them in jail for doing their jobs, including security laws enacted over the last seven years;

– Public sector whistle-blowers must be adequately protected—the current law needs to change;

– A new regime that limits which documents can be stamped secret;

– A properly functioning freedom of information (FOI) regime; and

– Defamation law reform.

They are all big asks, reflecting the size of the problem.

It takes much provocation for editors to stand back from the daily fight with each other. Discussion of Oz newspapers tends to descriptions like ‘polarisation’ and ‘a war of left versus right’. So it’s a significant moment when the princes of print and the queens of screen stand united, because of a ‘deep rupture in the relationship between government and media’.

Anyone who believes in journalist conspiracy theories has never seen four hacks trying to agree on where to lunch.

Hacks all rush towards a big yarn, but they spend as much time hacking at each other as reaching for the headline. Journalists catch and kill their own; see this stark instinct in the way that three generations of the Murdoch family have sought to castrate if not kill the ABC.

Professor George Williams sets out the ‘right to know’ case:

Australia leads the world in enacting national security and counter­-terrorism laws. About 75 have been passed by our federal parliament since September 11, 2001. This far exceeds the number of similar laws passed by Britain and the US. Our laws also differ because they go further in heightening government secrecy. They represent an assault on freedom of the press unique to Australia.

Australia has a statute book littered with laws that enable sources to be identified, whistleblowers to be shut down and journalists to be jailed. Time after time when politicians were questioned about these laws, they said that they would not be used against the media.

A recent audit put the total number of substantive anti-terror laws since 2001 at 82, with a further six bills before parliament or about to be introduced.

Canberra’s habitual obsession with secrecy has fed on security fears in the age of terrorism, the age of cybercrime, and now the new age of great-power competition. No matter the security problem, more secrecy is the answer.

Secrecy and security are different things. Secrecy is binary, while security has many different degrees and aspects. Canberra’s obsession means secrecy is the all-purpose tool. Make it secret to make it safe.

The public service makes secrecy a default setting. With secrecy as the central operating imperative, the tough argument inside the bureaucracy is always about how much, if anything, to make public.

Up in Parliament House and in the executive wing, the public service secrecy obsession feeds into the fight over power and policy. The political class knows knowledge is power, and secrecy builds the ammunition store.

Politicians and minders constantly trade and exchange information. If you do it yourself, it’s background or briefing. When done to you, it’s a dangerous leak and breach of security and should be met with the full force of the law.

The hypocrisy of Canberra’s great secrets apparatus is that the majority of ‘breaches’ come from politicians. Journalists trade in leaks, so they seldom talk too loudly about the two-faced nature of ministers who habitually trade in cabinet documents and secret papers; nobody is above the law, but the lawmakers give themselves a lot of leave-passes.

The cumulative effect of all the new security laws is a breaking down of old inhibitions and tacit no-go areas.

Police raids on journalists certainly galvanised the media. But I was struck at the supine response from politicians when the Australian Federal Police raided Parliament House in 2016. The great issue of national security at stake? The plods raided the font of Oz democracy because of a leak about the cost of the national broadband network!

In the pre-9/11 era, such an assault on parliamentary privilege would have been an outrage. Careers would have crashed and ministers would have been assailed. No more. The culture of secrecy and the need for security combine to eat at much, even the independence of parliament.

Journalists aren’t pleading for special privileges. The watchdogs are barking about stuff that is biting everyone.

The hacks muse about the need for a media freedom act to restore some balance. And as Williams notes, ‘We are the only democratic nation without strong national protection for freedom of speech and of the press.’

Australia is working on giving constitutional recognition to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples.

After that, it’s time to give constitutional protection to freedom of speech and freedom of the press.

We must examine the mindsets of terrorists—and of those who follow them

Yet another terror attack. In this case, though, quite a lot is different.

It is the first such attack suffered by New Zealand—a hitherto relatively peaceful multicultural society far from the usual ‘hotspots’ of terrorist attacks. Australia had the Lindt Café siege in December 2014 and the murder of NSW Police accountant Curtis Cheng—but nothing (thankfully) on the scale of the Christchurch massacre. Larger-scale attacks were planned but they were thwarted by the authorities before they could be carried out.

In addition, this massacre was live-streamed on social media by the perpetrator, Brenton Tarrant, a 28-year-old Australian citizen, who may well have chosen New Zealand for his evidently well-planned and horrifyingly well-resourced rampage because of Australia’s stricter gun controls.

While relatively little is known about Tarrant’s personal background, especially his early life and psychological development, more will no doubt come to light.

Given the paucity of information available at this time, I’m reluctant to speculate on Tarrant’s mindset for fear of muddying the waters for future appropriate professional and forensic assessment of his reasons for committing this atrocity.

And while those such as the Islamic State terror group have used the internet to broadcast beheadings and other atrocities, the live streaming seems to be something new in this region. So, too, is the wakeup call it is offering to our leaders about the too-ready availability of the internet for propagation of hateful material of many kinds.

It’s not news to us that the internet is an anarchic zone. But has it been so evident before that there’s a considerable appetite among the world’s internet users for content of this nature: murder as it is being committed? Tarrant knew he had an audience only too eager to gobble up what he was filming. It’s estimated that the video was accessed some millions of times before the social media platforms took action and prevented further viewings. Many hundreds of thousands of copies reportedly ‘escaped’ before the attempted restrictions were applied.

We can imagine that there’s a willing audience for this type of offensive material, just as there’s a willing market for the purveyors of pornography. But for millions to have sucked up, in such a brief time, this live-streamed slaughter of innocent individuals beggars belief.

We, as a society, need to try to understand the minds of the perpetrators and the minds of those to whom the perpetrators are playing. It’s pointless to supply if there is no demand. It is coming to light that, in Australia alone, there are many far-right extremist groups with, likely, hundreds of thousands of members who lean towards, if not actively support, the ideologies espoused by Tarrant in his ‘manifesto’.

That document will likely offer clues to Tarrant’s state of mind—but it will also provide clues about his intended audience.

Comparisons have been drawn with the 32-year-old Norwegian Anders Breivik, who slaughtered 77 victims in a well-planned massacre in July 2011. He, too, published a manifesto, as did the infamous ‘Unabomber’, Ted Kaczynski, in June 1995. Breivik and Kaczynski have been the subjects of extensive psychoanalytic assessment at a distance (as have many of history’s infamous mass murderers), because rarely is there a genuine opportunity to attempt psychoanalytic exploration of such individuals’ minds—they will be either unwilling participants in such a venture or dead. Nevertheless, Tarrant could afford such an opportunity if the task were to be appropriately approached.

The greater challenge is for humanity is to acknowledge that we comprise a broad range of individuals, from the compassionate, civic-minded ones who respond to these tragedies with such inclusive and caring responses as Sydney saw during and after the Lindt Cafe siege and Christchurch has seen this week, to the divisive, exclusionary, hate-filled ones who are in evidence in alt-right and other demonstrations in recent times.

And it would not be reasonable to omit to mention the parliamentary legislatures in Australia, in the United Kingdom and in the United States for examples of both Islamophobia and anti-Semitism, while in Middle Eastern countries it’s not uncommon to hear calls for the deaths of ‘the Great Satan’ (the US) and ‘the Little Satan’ (Israel).

Extremist hatreds abound, and they are not confined to the left or the right.

The challenge for governments everywhere is to endeavour to manage these extreme manifestations of psychological issues which affect us all but which all too often erupt into significant violence on both verbal and physical scales. The time has come to rethink the balance of civil liberties and freedom of speech in the marketplace against populations’ rights to safety.

We will need to look into our own minds, as well as those of the perpetrators, to achieve this balance.

Why we should allow members of Islamic State to return

The recent announcement by an Australian woman, who is believed to be 24-year-old Zehra Duman from Melbourne, that she wants to return to Australia with her two children raised the usual hue and cry. Prime Minister Scott Morrison, though not directly addressing Duman’s case, said that he wouldn’t risk Australian lives to extract those who had gone to live in the so-called Islamic State caliphate.

The government’s position has been that these individuals pose a clear and present security threat.

In February, Home Affairs Minister Peter Dutton introduced legislation into parliament that would prevent Australians who travelled overseas and are associated with a terrorist organisation from returning to Australia for at least two years through ‘temporary exclusion orders’. The rationale behind the measure is that they ‘may represent a threat to public safely’.

Neither Morrison’s nor Dutton’s claims are supported by empirical evidence.

Thomas Hegghammer and Petter Nesser, two leading counterterrorism scholars, concluded that returning fighters played a role in 1 in 360 terror plots between January 2011 to June 2015 in Western Europe, North America and Australia. Hegghammer, in a different study looking at returning jihadis between 1980 and 2010, found that 11% became involved in domestic terror plots. Another terrorism expert, Andrew Silke, found that rates of reoffending were lower for terrorist prisoners than for those convicted of other types of crimes.

Of course, the particular cohorts of jihadis in these samples might be different from people who were part of IS and stayed until its end as a territory-holding entity. And even very small numbers of individuals remaining radicalised and committing violent terrorist acts in Australia is a sobering prospect. However, it may be that the security challenge of returnees—particularly non-combatants and children—could be mitigated, especially if disengagement or deradicalisation policies are employed.

Allowing these individuals to return would help us to understand how Duman and others were groomed by IS, what attracted them to the ideology, and how they managed to get to Syria (who, for example, helped them cross the border from Turkey to Syria?). We rarely get good primary data sources on such issues.

Duman and others could be encouraged to recount the wrongdoings that occurred in IS. They could provide invaluable evidence against IS fighters, many of whom committed gross human rights violations (Duman was married to two different IS fighters).

Beyond the intelligence value, allowing Duman to return under supervision would provide other benefits. Accepting her would challenge the Salafi-jihadi narratives that Western societies are heartless and regularly discriminate against Muslims, treating them as second-class citizens (this is an argument that has emerged in relation to the stripping of Shamima Begum of her UK citizenship). It would show that, even though individuals like her have made serious and appalling mistakes, society at large is determined to rehabilitate them. Such a counter-narrative would highlight compassion, forgiveness and morality, especially as jihadis are looking to exploit the Christchurch massacre through claims that the violence was part of the ‘Crusader wars’ against Muslims.

Morrison and Dutton may want to look at people such as Jesse Morton, formerly a successful al-Qaeda recruiter who, after spending time in prison and having served as an FBI informant, now works at the George Washington University Program on Extremism, helping others to understand and diminish the allure of Salafi-jihadism. Bryant Neal Vinas is another American who had fought for al-Qaeda. He was captured and sentenced to seven years in prison. Vinas has been using his experience in al-Qaeda to discourage vulnerable people from following the route that he went down.

Information from these individuals about the pull and push factors that swayed them is vital to the campaign to counter violent extremism. There’s a reason why, for example, we use former drug users and people convicted of drink-driving offences to speak to teenagers about the dangers of drug addiction and alcohol abuse. People value real-life experience and ex-militants have that in abundance.

In addition, we have the mechanisms and resources to deal with them—whether it’s through supervision orders, treatment, deradicalisation programs, or other means. It would be worse if these individuals were to find sanctuary in weak states where they could indoctrinate others.

Morrison and Dutton may also want to look to the example of Tunisia, which has taken back around 1,000 of the estimated 5,500 extremists who left the country to join IS and al-Qaeda. Judge Naila El Faqih, the deputy head of the Tunisian national counterterrorism commission, defended the action on the grounds that it’s ‘an international obligation’ of states to take back their nationals. Ultimately, Dunam and others were radicalised while living in Australia and we therefore have an obligation not to pass the buck to someone else.

Counterterrorism and human rights experts are increasingly warning that counterterrorism measures adopted by democratic countries are undermining the rule of law and morality and are out of step with their obligations under international law. This is a view articulated by Fionnuala Ni Aolain, the UN special rapporteur on the promotion and protection of human rights and fundamental freedoms while countering terrorism.

We must recognise that when it comes to terrorism, many things are out of our control; we can’t, for example, provide 100% security. What isn’t beyond our control are the choices we make in confronting terrorists and those seduced by the ideology. We must reject the idea that to have security we need to compromise on rights and morality. The choices aren’t easy—because morality includes thinking of the collective good as well as individual returnees’ rights. But a compassionate balance might be struck that also considers the long-term consequences of leaving radicalised people in weakened jurisdictions that have enough problems of their own.

Lessons from the Christchurch attack: firearms, organised crime and terrorism

The most substantial changes to gun laws are those made in response to public demand for tighter controls in the aftermath of massacres such as the terrorist killings in Christchurch.

But reactive policy, particularly in a highly charged environment, can be fraught and New Zealand can learn valuable lessons from Australia’s experience.

The news that the Christchurch attacker held a gun licence and his weapons included modified semi-automatic firearms has sensibly led Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern to overhaul New Zealand’s firearms regime.

Australia’s system of firearms regulation is regarded internationally as an effective and common-sense approach. The national policy framework came into being immediately after the 1996 Port Arthur attack in Tasmania, which left 35 people dead and 23 injured. There’d been previous attacks in Melbourne, both in 1987—in Hoddle Street with seven fatalities and Queen Street, in which nine died, including the attacker.

The system isn’t one national law, but rather a federal arrangement between the states and territories and the Commonwealth. The 1996 National Firearms Agreement coordinates this approach. Notably, work on a national framework had been proposed before Port Arthur, but didn’t go ahead because Tasmania didn’t support it.

Australia’s approach is about regulation not prohibition. While the system is famously strong, it doesn’t prohibit access to firearms or even semi-automatic weapons, but manages access and use. The states and territories use a system of categories based on an individual having a ‘genuine reason’ for having a firearm, which then denotes that category of licence that may be issued. These categories in turn limit the type of firearm that may be used.

Separate from this is the mechanism governing procurement of a firearm, which includes a permit process, cooling-off periods in some states if the applicant doesn’t already have a firearm in that category, limits to the numbers allowed, and strict guidelines for storage and handling, which are actively monitored. All of this is managed by state and territory police. Depending on the licence sought, evidence is required to confirm the genuine reason, and this is regulated by each state, within nationally consistent principles.

Genuine reasons for having a licence and owning firearms include target shooting, managing feral animals (which farmers are required to do), hunting, and controlling vermin. The final category, being a professional shooter, is very difficult to access. It entitles the licensee to have centre-fire semi-automatic rifles but only for use in a business that’s primarily focused on shooting feral animals and which has a standing contract to provide the service.

The regulation of firearms, particularly high-powered and rapid-fire weapons, has had a mixed impact on firearm ownership and firearms-related deaths in Australia. The number of legally owned firearms is estimated to be more than triple what it was before 1996. But authorities have better control and visibility of the legal firearms environment.

Most firearms-related deaths in Australia continue to involve illegally obtained and unregistered guns. Like in New Zealand, the majority of such killings are carried out by organised crime networks or within families, and that has remained the case since the introduction of the 1996 regime provided oversight and regulation of legitimate ownership and use. The main issues now are the illegal importation of firearms, ammunition and accessories, and black-market sales of unregistered weapons.

For counterterrorism authorities, the focus of concern is the connection between organised criminals importing illegal firearms and the possibility of those weapons being available to terrorists.

The difficulty in legitimately accessing semi-automatic firearms appears to have limited or delayed attacks by some right-wing and Islamist terrorist plotters. Notably, those who planned mass casualty attacks using firearms, bladed weapons and improvised explosive devices on Melbourne targets on Christmas Eve in 2016 reportedly could not get weapons lawfully and also had difficulty buying firearms on the black market. That was not the case with those who murdered police accountant Curtis Cheng in Parramatta in 2015. None held firearms licences but they illegally obtained a .38 revolver and ammunition. Similarly, the shotgun used in the Lindt Café siege in 2014 came from the black market.

It’s of great concern, however, that a 2017 NSW investigation uncovered direct links between illegal firearms activity and terrorism. Just a few weeks before the Sydney plot to bomb an airliner was discovered, two men with known terrorist links were charged with illegally supplying firearms.

Transnational serious and organised crime groups are heavily active in Australia and New Zealand, and our large maritime borders make this trade difficult to manage.

The bottom line, based on Australia’s experience, is that revised firearms regulation will help regulate legitimate use, but it will not remove the threat of gun crimes.

For New Zealand, the most important first step is to identify exactly what happened in Christchurch and to find gaps in existing laws, policy or practices to assess what needs to change. A broader review of issues with firearms regulation is also needed. Like Australia, New Zealand has recent policy work to draw upon.

Some of the lessons from Australia’s experience that the New Zealand government might wish to consider include enhancing its licensing regime to include categories of legitimate purpose. These purposes could be linked to ownership of different classes of firearms.

Noting reports that the alleged attacker held a New Zealand firearms licence, citizenship requirements might also be examined.

There’d need to be regular reviews of licensing and ownership and registries of licensees and firearms, which could be shared appropriately with Australian jurisdictions.

The New Zealand authorities need to engage closely with their relevant farming and sporting bodies to understand their legitimate interests and needs.

Additional resources should be focused on investigating importation and sale of firearms and ammunition by transnational serious and organised crime groups.

There’s an opportunity for New Zealand and Australia to increase their already significant collaboration on counterterrorism and policing. New Zealand sits with the Australian government and the states and territories on the Australia New Zealand Counter-Terrorism Committee, which jointly manages legislative and other approaches to counterterrorism.

It would make sense for New Zealand to engage with Australian jurisdictions in a standing body that collaboratively looks at firearms regulation and other firearms issues, such as the relationship with organised crime. The standing Australasian Police Ministers’ Council, of which New Zealand is already a member, and subordinate police commissioners’ meeting would be appropriate.

Planning for the worst: Victoria’s new counterterrorism strategy

Victoria Police’s recent release of its new counterterrorism strategy for the next three years was timely.

There have been seven terrorist attacks and 18 disrupted attacks in Australia since 2005, and Melbourne was the target of nearly half of them. Since 2005, police have arrested 41 people over alleged terrorist activity in Victoria, 37 of whom followed Islamism, a radical political ideology distinct from Islam as a religion.

So, does Victoria Police’s new blueprint provide a useful framework to understand how law enforcement should approach counterterrorism in the state? Does it assist us in getting ahead of the curve and advancing greater public safety when it comes to home-grown terrorism?

On balance, I’d argue yes. The themes in the strategy are all pointing in the same, right direction: prevention, protection, disruption and response. These themes provide a useful checklist to evaluate progress in Victoria’s counterterrorism efforts.

As set out in the strategy, counterterrorism activities are focused primarily on developing and supporting community preventive measures, early intervention programs, and community rehabilitation and reintegration programs.

Given that lone-wolf attacks are considered a key threat, it’s sensible that the strategy outlines an expanded role for the state’s Fixated Threat Assessment Centre. Included in that expanded role is online training for police to identify early indicators of radicalisation to violence.

One of the first critical steps to laying out Victoria’s counterterrorism plan is to define key terms. The strategy cuts through a lot of murky arguments here. It states clearly that while there’s a need to scope the full landscape of terrorism threats in Victoria, the main threat is terrorism inspired by Salafi-jihadi ideology.

But the strategy wisely recognises that police efforts to address Islamist violent extremists will be more effective if they’re not wholly securitised, but rather part of a comprehensive approach that builds trusting partnerships with and within local communities. The term ‘community integration support’ is used, for example, and not ‘countering violent extremism’, the latter being the catchphrase favoured by the federal government.

The strategy correctly notes that it’s not always possible to prevent individuals from wanting to engage in acts of terrorism. That’s a useful reminder that we could spend ourselves into bankruptcy and still not achieve perfect security.

The public reasonably expects that the threat of terrorism will be contained and plots will be disrupted. But the strategy is right to note that in the event of an act of terrorism in Victoria, an immediate response will be required to mitigate its effects.

Victoria Police’s strategy is spot on in not putting all its eggs in the detection-and-disruption basket. An equal emphasis must be placed on planning to respond and recover. The kind of response we’ve seen from Londoners in attacks over recent years—not just ‘keeping calm and carrying on’ but also helping first responders—provides some measure of deterrence to would-be terrorists who’d want us to panic and overreact.

This isn’t admitting defeat or neglecting efforts to prevent terrorism: it’s about minimising the costs of terrorism. Noteworthy here is the strategy’s commitment to upgrading police social media capability to ensure ongoing communications to Victorians during and after a critical incident.

The strategy correctly observes that the ‘nature of the terrorist threat is never static … terrorists routinely adapt to new technologies, including for operational security and propaganda purposes. It is critical that we also adapt and evolve to meet, and where possible, anticipate these developments.’

In this context it perhaps wasn’t surprising that media attention focused on the remarks at the launch event by the head of Victoria Police’s Counter-Terrorism Command, Assistant Commissioner Ross Guenther, on VicPol’s interest in using drones with cameras to monitor crowds for terror threats, discern exit and entry points, and collect information about behaviour.

Guenther also referred at the launch to the need to mitigate the threats from drones as terrorist weapons in crowded places. That’s sensible: drones can be adapted to carry improvised explosive devices to transform them into flying bombs; they can also carry jamming equipment capable of disrupting the ones used by police.

But overall Victoria Police’s strategy is sound in not focusing on technology. It correctly makes clear that the key is prevention through engagement, with communities able to push back against violent Islamist and other forms of extremism.

Counterterrorism is a complex and dynamic policy area with no quick fixes. There are always some trade-offs and unintended consequences. Fortunately, there is no suggestion in the strategy that counterterrorism is purely a job for law enforcement. It sensibly resists anything that smacks of creating a thought police.

Ultimately, the best approach to countering terrorism is one that protects lives and, one hopes, Australia’s way of life. But we shouldn’t expect the impossible from Victoria Police’s new plan—the strategy doesn’t make Victorians safer just by its release. Even the best strategy is worthless unless it’s well implemented.

The AFP and CT: it matters who watches the watchers

In an earlier post, we argued that with the forging of the Turnbull government’s Home Affairs portfolio, the time was right to question the policy assumptions underpinning Australia’s domestic security strategies. And with that, we explored the effects of the conflation of policing and law enforcement. With the launch of ASPI’s Counterterrorism Yearbook 2018, we now examine how increased cooperation between law enforcement and intelligence agencies in Australia may be—unintentionally—securitising policing and undermining its independence.

Australia’s law enforcement and intelligence communities have historically evolved and operated in fundamentally dissimilar ways. Each community has had different legal authorities, internal modes of organisation and governing paradigms.

Prior to 11 September 2001, Australia’s counterterrorism (CT) apparatus had a much lower public profile. Many state, territory and Commonwealth agencies had CT responsibilities, but for the most part the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation (ASIO) was Canberra’s lead agency on the issue.

Putting aside the absurd claims that Australia is becoming a ‘police state’, terror threats since 11 September have served as a catalyst for greater cooperation between police and intelligence officials.

Australia’s current CT policy framework ensures that ASIO still has a loud voice and much influence on Canberra’s strategy setting and operational decision-making. That said, law enforcement contributions—by the AFP and other agencies—are highly valued by the government and policymakers alike. However, the commitment to Team Australia ‘jointness’—the Coalition government’s catch cry for a collaborative policy space—may be homogenising the policy voices.

Despite Australia’s long history of separate police and intelligence communities, it would be false to claim that policing is far removed from CT intelligence operations. Consider the use of control orders, preventative detention and warrantless searches of private property. Certainly these laws haven’t been widely used since 2005: control orders have been used six times, preventative detention has never been used federally and, as far as we know, no warrantless search has ever been conducted.

Arguably, extraordinary powers such as these should be considered the tools of intelligence agencies like ASIO, which use them sparingly to disrupt the most serious of threats. That leaves aside delayed notification search warrants and preventative detention orders, which fall under the jurisdiction of the Australian Federal Police (AFP). But now there are more than a few police who’d like to be able to use these extraordinary powers to pursue transnational organised crime targets.

The increasingly closer policing and intelligence CT relationship is manifest elsewhere in Australia’s security and intelligence architecture. Firstly, the Office of National Intelligence will have greater coordination responsibilities for strategy and capability development across Australia’s intelligence and security agencies than the Office of National Assessments ever had. Its coordination remit will likely include at least some oversight of the intelligence collection functions of other agencies such as the AFP. That architecture lends itself to continuing the trend of mainstreaming law enforcement into national security.

Secondly, the shifting of the CT mandate from the Parliamentary Joint Committee on Law Enforcement (PJCLE) to the Parliamentary Joint Committee on Intelligence and Security (PJCIS) speaks to the overlap of policing with national security.

The PJCLE was established in 2010 to monitor and review the performance of the AFP. The PJCIS was established by the Intelligence Services Act 2001 and reviews the administration, activities and expenditure of Australia’s security architecture, including ASIO.

In 2014, the Joint Committee on Intelligence and Security recommended that its oversight mandate be extended to include the AFP’s CT functions. The recommendation came after the government introduced the Counter-Terrorism Legislation Amendment (Foreign Fighters) Bill 2014. The committee emphasised that the extension of its oversight powers would be additional to—rather than a substitute for—those of the Joint Committee on Law Enforcement. But the government conferred all oversight authority for the AFP’s CT functions—that is, those that fall under Section 5.3 of the criminal code—from the law enforcement committee to the intelligence and security committee.

This conferral of authority hasn’t been without controversy. The PJCIS clearly has a legitimate interest in the CT activities of the AFP. But, placing the AFP’s CT activities within the remit of the PJCIS jeopardises public perceptions of police independence in matters of security policy, strategy and operations.

Inevitably the AFP’s CT activities overlap with the functions of other Commonwealth law enforcement agencies, as well as those of state and territory police forces. While not a new phenomenon, the overlap between the AFP and intelligence agencies like ASIO has also increased, and is now more accurately described as a collaboration. This has been a major factor in blurring the lines of parliamentary oversight responsibilities. This conflation of law enforcement with CT activities threatens to further securitise Australia’s police.

The AFP’s international police-to-police cooperation programs have always been underpinned by a global understanding that the agency was neither an intelligence agency nor a security service. At the very least, the PJCIS arrangement has undermined the strength of this argument.

In the short term the simplest way to reinforce the independence of Australia’s police is to transfer the oversight responsibility for CT back to the PJCLE. At the very least, this should be done for the law enforcement elements. This would serve to reiterate that CT isn’t an existential threat to Australia’s domestic security, and that our police aren’t part of our security apparatus.

In the longer term, consideration needs to be given to whether the role of the PJCLE ought to be expanded to focus on oversight of Australia’s home affairs arrangements more broadly.

Indonesia and the threat of violent extremism

Bruce Hoffman, a premier terrorism scholar, has suggested that there are around 3,000 al-Qaeda members in Indonesia. The number of Daesh supporters, sympathisers and followers remains unknown.

That estimate—it’s unclear how Hoffman arrived at his figure—should raise alarm bells in Canberra and across the region because the presence of a small coterie of violent extremists in Indonesia may indicate that Salafi-jihadists are re-energising and reorganising in the world’s largest Muslim country.

The 2002 Bali terrorist attack in which 88 Australian tourists lost their lives led to a revision of Indonesia’s counterterrorism architecture. That included establishing a specialist anti-terror police unit (Detachment 88, also known as Densus 88), the National Agency for Combating Terrorism and the Directorate General of Correction. Between 2010 and 2016, Densus 88 foiled 54 terror plots.

The unit’s success is attributed to its modus operandi of using clandestine intelligence operations to infiltrate groups. Members of Densus 88 join chat rooms and engage with militants online. In 2017, Turkish authorities had detained around 430 Indonesians for either joining Daesh or for trying to join. It’s also believed that around 20 Indonesians fought in Marawi.

It was recently revealed that a team of Indonesian researchers who sat in mosques and Quran reading groups to get a sense of what was preached and studied had found that 41 mosques in 16 Indonesian provinces are promoting Daesh ideas and recruiting for the group.

Saiful Muhtorir, known as Abu Gar, is on trial for his involvement in the 2016 Jakarta bombing. He had also been involved in establishing a Daesh branch in the Moluccas. He recently admitted that Iwan Darmawan Munto (also known as Rois)—who’s been on death row in Indonesia for 13  years for his involvement in the 2004 Australian embassy bombing—orchestrated the Jakarta bombing  from his cell.

Abu Gar also revealed that Rois has used cell phones that were smuggled into his prison, and that the two communicated via Telegram, an online secure messaging application.

The case highlights both the role of encrypted communication in enabling violent extremism and the state of prisons in Indonesia.

The prison issue is complex.

First, Indonesia has 477 prisons holding more than 254,000 inmates. That’s twice the number of inmates that the prisons are meant to accommodate. The prisons have one officer for every 55 prisoners.

Second, while Indonesia has a ‘prison deradicalisation program’, there’s little coordination between government agencies, as well as a lack of clarity about what the program aims to accomplish.

Third, prison guards aren’t well paid, and aren’t trained to identify individuals who are being radicalised.  Radicalisation itself isn’t well understood. Instead, it’s seen as ‘everything that happens before the bomb goes off’.

Consequently, guards don’t know when or how to intervene. For example, Sunakim, who was involved in the 2016 Jakarta attack, became Aman Abdurrahman’s personal masseur even though both were connected to a terrorist camp in Aceh. Sunakim had trained there and Aman had donated money to the camp.

Fourth, in prison the Islamists aren’t afraid to defy prison authorities and demand that their rights be respected. It’s worth recalling the case of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. Zarqawi was imprisoned on terrorism charges in Suwaqah prison. While in prison he elevated his physical standing (he spent a lot of time bulking up) and then compelled other prisoners to accept him as their leader (he engaged in fights). Once he had sufficient support, he was able to provide ‘carrots’—extra food rations, medical assistance and so on—to other inmates.

Most importantly, Zarqawi defied prison authorities, including refusing to wear prison clothes and using his followers to create disorder. His continued defiance won him and his cohorts special status within the prison, which attracted more recruits.

Aman Abdurrahman has also used his incarceration to elevate his own position in Salafi-jihadi circles by translating and distributing Daesh’s online publications. As a result, he has been able to circumvent rules despite being in a maximum security prison. In 2014, for example, prison guards found six mobile phones, two headsets and a world map in his cell. In 2015, another search of his cell yielded three phone SIM cards, five violent ideology books, a list of phone numbers and more.

These systemic shortcomings help explain why Abu Bakar Bashir, a dangerous ideologue, has been able to receive hundreds of visitors in Gunung Sindur prison.

The 2002 bombing encouraged greater Indonesian–Australian cooperation in counterterrorism, a relationship that has blossomed over time. In February 2017, the two countries established the Australia–Indonesia Partnership for Justice – II, a five-year partnership under which Australia has committed $40 million to ‘strengthen the rule of law and the security environment in Indonesia’. The program also promotes prison reform and religious tolerance, and aims to counter violent extremism.

Indonesia has made great strides in challenging violent extremism, but terrorists innovate and imitate—they look to other groups to see what works and what doesn’t. So it’s vital that security services not only remain vigilant, but also adapt.

The Indonesian security services, just like ours, are facing new challenges as Daesh comes to terms with the loss of its caliphate and al-Qaeda continues its rebuilding program. The memorandum of understanding (MoU) on Cooperation to Counter International Terrorism, which was signed during the March 2018 ASEAN–Australia Special Summit, underlies our commitment to work with our regional partners to counter violent extremism and terrorism.

Pull and push factors remain ambiguous, especially in the post-caliphate period, which is why Indonesia and Australia should devote more attention to research rather than relying on anecdotal evidence to assess Daesh and al-Qaeda, so that we don’t adopt legislation that would be counter-productive.

Counterterrorism Yearbook 2018: North Africa

Throughout 2017, peace and security across North Africa were threatened by Salafi-jihadi terrorism, armed conflict, poor governance and porous borders. Nations across the Maghreb continued to pursue independent counterterrorism (CT) efforts, without much development of multilateral regional CT initiatives.

Some states, such as Tunisia and Morocco, are clearly doing better than others. On the other hand, Egypt suffered the second-highest number of attacks in the Maghreb in 2017, just behind Libya. The attack in Bir al-Abd on the Sinai peninsula in November 2017 was the most lethal in Egypt’s modern history, with over 300 fatalities.

The Egyptian government’s heavy-handed response to terrorism has had demonstrably negative effects on national security. Measures range from extended police powers during ‘state-of-emergency’ periods to restricted freedom of expression, unlawful detention and capital punishment.

These methods haven’t demonstrated to citizens that the government’s capable of securing and stabilising the country. Instead, coercive tactics have consolidated existing grievances and left whole communities vulnerable to radicalisation by violent extremists.

While IS remains a concern—particularly in the Sinai—other groups are emerging. A relatively new group called Hasm (Determination) has executed lethal attacks on security personnel and the Grand Mufti, and at Myanmar’s embassy in Cairo. It’s target choices indicate that its unlikely to be aligned with IS, which indiscriminately targets citizens.

Militants also operate on the borders with Libya to the west and with the Gaza Strip to the east, which remain sources of instability and insecurity because of long-standing socio-political grievances, low levels of governance and established crime–terror networks.

Elsewhere in the region, Salafi-jihadi groups continue to operate with force, particularly in Libya. The Middle East Institute suggests that there are five main groups currently operating there, as well as other, smaller militant cells or affiliates in the shadows. A range of non-state actors have filled the political vacuum in the absence of an effective government.

Although Libya’s competing governing factions—the UN-backed Government of National Accord (GNA) and General Haftar’s Libyan National Army (LNA)—have had some  success in curbing IS in Libya, there’s no long-term CT strategy in place. IS’s territorial strongholds have been lost, and their military capabilities have been severely rolled back, but it’s likely that the group may be reorganising and regrouping. And it and other militant groups remain resilient, active and operational in various pockets across the country.

Therefore, Libya’s governing forces should be prepared for a continued IS insurgency carrying out sustained, low-scale guerrilla attacks.

While analysts predict that IS will likely be defeated in Algeria—owing to its sparse membership and lack of structured leadership—it’s thought that al-Qaeda’s regional branch, AQIM, continues to enjoy solid support and influence. AQIM has demonstrated considerable durability—it’s been in operation in the region since 2007 and retains around 500 members.

AQIM could capitalise on the structural dismantling of the IS caliphate by recruiting militants returning to the region, or even foreign fighters disillusioned with IS. For example, in 2016 AQIM launched a campaign urging IS fighters to switch loyalty. Due to its detailed knowledge of the terrain, climate, governance structures and tribal relations, AQIM holds a favourable position from which to negotiate with wavering militants looking for safe havens and the prospect of continuing military operations.

CT measures across Tunisia, Algeria and Morocco are far more sophisticated and multidimensional than those practised by their neighbours in Egypt and Libya. Hard security, coordinated intelligence and military operations are paired with softer socio-political measures aimed at addressing the drivers of radicalisation. Algeria and Morocco have both imposed a strict policy on the dissemination of religious material, permitting only that which aligns with the governments’ standards of moderate Islam.

Additionally, both countries strongly support imam training programs that promote social stability and the values of integration and tolerance. Morocco has extended this training program to women. Female preachers known as morchidates are taught to deliver religious education that reflects tolerance and inclusivity.

Such measures seem to have had the desired effect. There are demonstrable improvements in national security, and there have been no terrorist attacks on Moroccan soil since 2011. Tunisia has also avoided any mass-casualty terrorist attacks since the 2016 attack on the town of Ben Guerdan.

Although CT measures at home may be proving to be relatively effective, it should be noted that Libyans and Moroccans were involved in attacks in the UK and Spain in 2017, and that a Tunisian national was arrested in Germany on suspicion of planning an attack. These examples demonstrate the need for closer international cooperation and information sharing to effectively counter terrorism and to undermine international terrorist links that may have been formed through foreign fighter networks.

The fallout of the IS caliphate’s dismantling are being felt across the Maghreb. Noting the substantial numbers of foreign fighters and migrants who made their way to Iraq and Syria, the region will likely see many returnees. Unlike in Europe, where border security, intelligence and law enforcement structures are robust and effective, the Maghreb appears to be a less hostile environment for returnees to set up camp, regroup and re-emerge, either within an insurgency or in some other manifestation of organised terrorism.

Counterterrorism Yearbook 2018: Southeast Asia

Last year’s Marawi crisis represents the most significant terrorism development in Southeast Asia since the 2002 Bali bombings. Despite expectations that the rollback of Islamic State (IS) forces in the Middle East would see a return of fighters to Southeast Asia, the group’s capacity to occupy an entire city—and to repel Philippines conventional forces for five months—was unforeseen.

The Marawi model has injected new enthusiasm into the small fringe of militant Southeast Asian Islamists who operate in remoter parts of the Philippines and Indonesia. It also demonstrated the possibilities of a command and control model whereby IS commanders direct local forces from offshore locations.

The Marawi crisis was swiftly followed by the August Rohingya crisis. This has left a smouldering and tragic humanitarian disaster, with some 700,000 Rohingya now sheltering in tent cities on Myanmar’s western border with Bangladesh and no quick solutions in sight.

There are legitimate fears that the resentment sown by this example of what UN Secretary-General António Guterres has called ethnic cleansing will breed a new generation of terrorists and ready recruits for IS.

Both these situations are serious, warranting close attention from regional governments. The good news is that so far, it would seem, Marawi at least has spurred unprecedented levels of counterterrorism (CT) discussion among regional governments, and there’s at least some evidence of an increase in practical cooperation.

The Philippines, Indonesia and Malaysia have instituted coordinated patrols in the Sulu Sea in an effort to net militants seeking to leave by boat from the southern Philippines. Australia recently hosted a sub-regional defence ministers’ meeting on counterterrorism that saw ASEAN countries agree to link intelligence databases on terrorism suspects. Australia continues to push for closer cooperation and more capacity building, as evidenced at the last month’s ASEAN summit in Sydney.

In the case of the Rohingya, stonewalling by Myanmar’s government continues despite ASEAN’s pressure and the personal efforts of Malaysia’s Prime Minister Najib Razak and Indonesia’s President Joko Widodo. Myanmar’s scheme to repatriate the Rohingya has been met with skepticism and little uptake to date.

But here there’s some consolation. The Islamist group ARSA (Arakan Rohingya Salvation Army), which mounted the attacks on police posts that triggered Myanmar’s scorched-earth retribution, appears to hold limited political objectives. They aspire more to winning a better deal for the Rohingya than to linking with the IS global caliphate.

This makes ARSA’s struggle more akin to Thailand’s 14-year-old southern insurgency, which has largely remained focussed on the issue of local autonomy, and largely remained disconnected from IS goals elsewhere in Southeast Asia, which include launching attacks on Westerners.

Beyond the Rohingya and Marawi crises, Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia each continue to develop their CT legislative frameworks and security arrangements. Singapore, the region’s acknowledged CT leader, experienced its first case of self-radicalisation and has moved quickly to strengthen its counter-radicalisation programs, as well as arrangements for crowd security.

Singapore’s situation is easier, however, than those of Indonesia and Malaysia, whose security forces must operate over more dispersed geography, with larger populations and more complex political challenges posed by their predominantly Muslim societies.

Indonesia’s political leaders are walking a fine line between accommodating the demands of an increasingly pious, and in some respects, less tolerant Islamic society, while also acting to firmly crack down on the groups who seek to tear at Indonesia’s delicate social fabric, or worse, to carry out actual violence.

The former motivation saw the sentencing and imprisonment of former Jakarta mayoral candidate Basuki Tjahaja Purnama (‘Ahok’) for blasphemy. The latter saw the passing of a an illiberal bill (known as ORMAS) giving Indonesia’s executive government powers to outlaw any community group deemed to be espousing principles inconsistent with the state ideology of Pancasila. This bill was subsequently used to ban the extremist organisation Hizbut Tahrir Indonesia.

Indonesia also continues to work on significantly strengthening its primary counterterrorism legislation, although the bill is currently held up as politicians and military officers wrangle over a larger role for the TNI in Indonesian CT. Meanwhile, the Australian-trained and highly effective police CT outfit, Detachment 88, continues to maintain an effective surveillance net over many of Indonesia’s potential militants.

Malaysia also continues to fine-tune its CT arrangements, opening a large-scale counter-messaging centre in cooperation with the government of Saudi Arabia while boosting the numbers of its CT police force. Malaysia continues to disrupt plots and apprehend terrorists en route to or from conflicts such as Marawi or the Middle East.

Elsewhere in Southeast Asia, Thailand’s southern insurgency continues to take lives, but hasn’t escalated beyond the southern border provinces, as was feared after the 2016 Queen’s Birthday attacks.

In sum, the picture for terrorism in Southeast Asia remains dynamic and concerning, but there are positive signs that Southeast Asian governments are treating the issue with increasing seriousness and diligence.

Counterterrorism Yearbook 2018: Australia

As coalition forces drove Islamic State (IS) out of the cities of Mosul and Raqqa, several plots in Australia demonstrated a greater involvement by the terror group than had been seen here before.

The volume and pace of counterterrorism (CT) operations continued to stretch law enforcement resources, but all of the plots were disrupted. The time available to authorities to disrupt attacks remained short and international allies provided vital leads to investigators in Australia.

In many ways, 2017 was a turning point in Australia’s approach to CT. A range of actions taken since 2014 to prevent and respond to terrorism were complete or had evolved to another phase.

Between late 2016 and the end of 2017, authorities stopped a number of planned attacks, including the most complex to date, and identified further links between Australians and IS in the Middle East. In July 2017, the NSW Joint Counterterrorism Team disrupted a plan to place a bomb on an aircraft flying out of Sydney. The group allegedly received plans, funds and equipment from IS in the Middle East to undertake the attack and possibly another, involving the release of toxic chemicals in a public place. The IS connection was reportedly made through an Australian foreign fighter related to some of the men. Authorities became aware of the plans only days before disruption.

In February 2017, an electrician in Young was charged with attempting to help IS use laser-guided missiles. The man was involved with relatives who had left Australia in 2015 and are accused of funding IS and helping it obtain weapons through the Eastern European black market.

In October, a Melbourne man was charged with administering a pro-IS website on behalf of an American foreign fighter and with providing funds to the group.

Authorities advise that they disrupted 14 major mass-casualty plots from mid-2014 to 2017 and 34 major operations saw 78 people charged with terrorism offences in 34 CT operations.

In 2017, Australia was a vocal player in global initiatives to address terrorists’ use of encrypted communications, raising the issue at a Five Eyes conference and being involved in the G20 declaration on the issue. The government’s approach of seeking collaboration with technology businesses, rather than imposing new requirements on them, has been sensible and contrasts favourably with the more legalistic approach taken by others.

Offshore CT operations contributed to the liberation of Mosul and Raqqa, and Australia continued to provide training to the Iraqi military, as well as air force ISR, command and control, and strike capabilities. The ADF commitment to Afghanistan was increased in May by 30 personnel to 300, mostly in training and headquarters roles.

After IS-aligned groups captured the Philippines city of Marawi in May, Australia provided two P3C Orion patrol aircraft to gather intelligence to support the Armed Forces of the Philippines, along with instructors to give urban warfare training. That training drew on the ADF’s experience in Iraq.

At a meeting of the Council of Australian Governments (COAG) in October, the Commonwealth, state and territory governments signed an updated Intergovernmental Agreement on National Counter Terrorism Arrangements and endorsed an updated National-Counter Terrorism Plan. COAG also announced that the jurisdictions would introduce technical systems—rather than the existing manual systems—to share driver licence details and other data in terrorism-related matters. They’d also share biometric data including facial identification.

While this announcement created some debate about privacy, the longstanding national approach to security and CT largely mitigated concerns. COAG also endorsed a recommendation from the Lindt Café coronial inquest for a shared approach to fixated threat assessment. NSW and Victoria established dedicated ‘fixated’ threat assessment units in 2017, following Queensland’s earlier lead.

In 2017, both the Parliamentary Joint Committee on Intelligence and Security (PJCIS) and Independent National Security Legislation Monitor (INSLM) undertook separate statutory reviews of Australia’s control orders, preventative detention orders, police stop, search and seizure powers, and the declared areas regime. The INSLM also reviewed the high-risk terrorist offenders legislation, which provides for the ongoing detention of terrorists who have completed their sentences but still present an unacceptable risk to the community. The INSLM found that all of the laws remained appropriate. The PJCIS is due to report in March 2018.

NSW become the first state or territory to incorporate the 2016 federal high-risk terrorism offenders legislation. The state is home to a high proportion of those serving sentences for terrorism offences, including some whose sentences are due to end.

Another law from 2016 was used for the first time in 2017, when Khaled Sharrouf became the first—and to date the only—Australian to lose citizenship on terrorism grounds. That law can apply only to dual nationals assessed to be terrorists and whose return to their other home nation would not breach Australia’s international obligations.

In June, NSW passed laws clarifying when police had the right to ‘shoot to kill’ during a terrorist incident. This followed the recommendation of the coronial report into the 2014 Lindt Café siege that police officers should ‘have sufficient legal protection to respond to terrorist incidents’. Western Australia and Victoria announced similar enhancements during the year.

COAG’s dedicated CT committee, the ANZCTC, produced new guidelines on protecting crowded places from terrorism, which arose from a review commissioned after the July 2016 attack in the French city of Nice. The package builds on existing strategic-level guidance to provide more detailed advice, points of contact and tools, including a security audit and a self-assessment risk management tool. A welcome development in the new document is its focus on business and community taking a role in preparing for, preventing and responding to terrorist attacks.

Two significant announcements are changing the way CT is managed at the national level. A new Office of National Intelligence will take a long-term, strategic approach to intelligence, prioritise material to be shared and ensure more effective capability development and management.

A new Home Affairs portfolio brings various national security–related agencies and functions into one ministerial portfolio with a shared, strategically focused oversight department. These initiatives take Australia’s management of national security and intelligence matters to a more mature level, provide structure for the already effective relationships between agencies, and should provide improved strategic direction and capability across all organisations.

That Australia has, to date, avoided a mass-casualty attack despite the capability of Islamist terrorist groups, is testament to the success of the thorough approach taken by police and agencies.

The resources and direction being given by IS to its small number of supporters in Australia suggests, however, that a major attack may yet occur and there remains a need for more operationally focused lessons learned reviews of terrorist incidents and responses to them rather than the ad hoc approach currently taken.

There are strong procedures in place to scrutinise security legislation but there’s no regular mechanism for reviewing CT activities outside coronial inquests that are concerned primarily with the cause of death and not how CT operations were—or should be—carried out.

Formalised reviews of terrorist attacks and disruptions would provide evidence-based understanding of the effectiveness of Australia’s arrangements and areas for improvement.

States take the lead in dealing with terrorist incidents, and operational response units exercise regularly under ANZCTC arrangements. But the high level of operational-level interaction doesn’t appear to be matched by similar exercising and testing of strategic-level decision-making in ambiguous environments by federal and state ministers and business leaders.

It’s vital that key actors understand clearly what their roles are to be in an unfolding and uncertain terrorist incident. During such an event isn’t the time to learn about those different roles and capabilities, which need to be both well understood and exercised.

Australia should involve these key decision-makers in the larger field exercises.