Introduction

In December 2016, an attack at a Berlin Christmas market shook Germany, its impact continuing to resonate beyond Europe today. Anis Amri, a 24-year-old Tunisian refugee, was later identified as the suspect in the lorry attack that killed a dozen in the capital city. A video recording of Amri was soon released by the Islamic State (IS), in which he pledged allegiance to ISIS and Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi.^[1] His statements conveyed a direct expression of extremist ideology and signalled an intent to cause violence.

The question that has dogged governments, policymakers, and analysts for many years is what causes an individual to heed extremist propaganda. In a digitally saturated environment, this process of gradual radicalisation is intensified through repeated exposure, social reinforcement, and conditioning, which normalise violence as a legitimate mode of expression.

Radicalisation is a well-researched topic in Europe, yet there is no scholarly consensus on a precise definition. Most scholars agree that it is a dynamic, multi-stage process. Schmid (2013) argues that it is typically conceptualised as an “increased commitment to and use of violent means and strategies in political conflicts,”^[2] an idea which aligns with the European Commission’s understanding of ‘violent radicalisation’ as “the phenomenon of people embracing opinions, views and ideas which could lead to acts of terrorism.”^[3]

The 21st century has seen a shift in how extremist outfits reach and recruit target audiences. Rather than being confined to clandestine cells, in-person gatherings, or isolated ideological circles, extremist networks are increasingly operating in hybrid environments where the digital and physical spheres intersect. ISIS’s online magazine Rumiyah, along with its channels in platforms such as Telegram, reflect a sophisticated digital propaganda system that reaches vulnerable individuals. In May 2025, 19-year-old Leo Walby in the United Kingdom pleaded guilty to charges of “dissemination of extreme Islamist-related terrorist material online, including Daesh propaganda through his various social media handles.”^[4] These instances highlight the need to examine the hybrid character of terrorist operations.

Floridi (2015) captured this shift through his concept of “onlife”, referring to the “new experience of a hyperconnected reality within which it is no longer sensible to ask whether one may be online or offline.”^[5] Valentini et al. (2020) apply this framework to situate radicalisation within hybrid socio-digital contexts rather than discrete online or offline settings. This brief adopts the “onlife” understanding of radicalisation, acknowledging that individuals increasingly encounter and internalise extremist narratives in spaces that blend digital stimuli with physical experiences.^[6]

This conceptual shift becomes particularly relevant for understanding the prevalence of homegrown terrorism in Europe. In such cases, individuals may appear socially embedded and institutionally integrated; however, their defiance of society and acceptance of narratives redefine their sense of belonging. Across terrorist attacks in Madrid (2004), London (2005), Norway (2011), and Paris (2015), a pattern emerges. The 2004 Madrid train bombings were carried out by Islamist extremists linked to al-Qaeda.^[7] A critical driver of their radicalisation was Spain’s involvement in the 2003 invasion of Iraq, which featured extensively in the attackers’ claims of solidarity and revenge. The attackers of the 7/7 London bombings appeared deeply embedded within British society yet gradually gravitated towards violent extremist worldviews.^[8] Similarly, Anders Breivik^[9] in Norway and the Kouachi brothers in France^[10] were citizens who carried out attacks against the State and society, motivated by perceived moral and ideological grievances they believed to have been fundamentally undermining the social order.

Most assailants, despite being embedded within their societies, experienced radicalisation through a confluence of persistent offline social exposure and online ideological influences. Research in the European Union (EU) highlights that such processes draw on social networks to recruit and sustain participation in extremist groups. These networks function as echo chambers across online and offline spheres, where beliefs are mutually reinforced with little external challenge.^[11] Such hybrid environments enable extremist narratives to be personalised and validated, creating a sense of ideological belonging that transcends the physical realm. Collectively, these attacks demonstrate how onlife interactions shape identity, intensify grievance formation and ideological commitment, and direct violence against the ‘familiar societies’ in which perpetrators live, while fostering a deeper sense of belonging to distant, often ‘unfamiliar’, extremist groups.

The post-2004 European counter-terrorism landscape has documented the shift towards homegrown terrorism extensively. Radicalisation is neither a linear nor a monolithic phenomenon but a process contingent on socio-political contexts and transnational ideological currents. These globalised ideological discourses, especially those promoted by ISIS and al-Qaeda, offer imagined, cult-like communities of belonging that enable individuals in Europe to anchor personal grievances within a perceived wider collective struggle. Participation in extremist activity thus emerges from the interplay of global conflicts and local narratives, shaped and sustained by the onlife environments that blur the boundaries between political identity and digital exposure.

Situating Radicalisation in Onlife Spaces

As highlighted above, radicalisation remains a concept without a universally accepted definition. It is a process with “no definite beginning or inevitable end-point.”^[12] The dawn of the 21st century reshaped the policy landscape around this process. In the immediate aftermath of the 9/11 attacks in the United States, scholarly discussions on the “roots of terrorism” became politically sensitive.^[13] However, by the time of the Madrid (2004) and London (2005) bombings, European states were forced to reevaluate their counter-terrorism policies and confront the question of whether “winning hearts and minds” was as important as “shock and awe”.^[14]

This shift necessitated recognition that state responses to extremism must move beyond military- and police-centric frameworks. Kudnani (2012) has argued that radicalisation is built on certain assumptions. First, terrorists emerge from a broader milieu of “extremist sympathisers who share an Islamic theology that inspires their actions”; second, psychological or theological factors may help predict entry into extremism; third, “knowledge of these factors could allow government policies that reduce the risk of terrorism.”^[15] Kudnani’s argument presupposes identifiable communities of “extremist sympathisers” and predetermines the factors driving them towards radicalisation.

However, such assumptions are difficult to sustain in an onlife environment. In these hybrid spaces, individuals may not be embedded in local extremist groups or exposed to physical networks. Instead, they participate in diffuse settings that cultivate a sense of communal attachment. This attachment is not tied to geographic or social proximity; rather, it is mediated through algorithmic visibility and transnational ideological flows.

Socialising Processes  

Classical radicalisation scholarship argues that involvement in violence is preceded by prolonged phases of socialisation.^[16] In such cases, an individual’s sense of self diminishes. These individuals are then targeted by extremist outfits looking to recruit socially isolated individuals. They experience an “extensive socialisation process that includes exposure to movement ideas, debate and deliberation, and experimentation with alternative groups.”^[17] People who are already inclined towards violence tend to gravitate towards groups (both in real life and online) that reinforce their radical beliefs.^[18] This corresponds to heightened group loyalties and interpersonal ties.^[19] However, classical models implicitly assume that this kind of socialisation takes place in bounded physical settings like prisons, mosques, or community groups.

Close proximity creates what psychologists term a “contagion effect”, where dense interpersonal interactions foster extremist ideologies. This, coupled with constant stress, frustration, and limited access to counselling, creates opportunities for recruitment among vulnerable youth. European experiences, such as the 2015 Paris and 2016 Brussels terror attacks,^[20] reveal that several attackers were radicalised during incarceration.

The advent of digital and hybrid environments has complicated this framework. It is less clear how these socialisation stages unfold online. Recent evidence suggests that digital ecosystems have altered both the pace and the texture of radicalisation globally. Common platforms include “Telegram (30%), Facebook (16%) and WhatsApp (6%). At least another 23% were using undisclosed encrypted communications apps and another 17% of individuals were active on other social platforms (not named). At least 26% were consuming propaganda. Most of this propaganda was ideological (23%, with multiple references to al-Qaeda ideologue Anwar al-Awlaki as inspiration), followed by operational manuals (at least 15%).”^[21]

Adolescents are particularly vulnerable in this context. Research on age-related crime shows that the tendency to commit crime decreases with age, a pattern also apparent in an individual’s vulnerability to radicalisation.^[22] Scholars suggest that “adolescents are more inclined to take risky decisions than adults.”^[23] In many cases, this tendency is linked to developmental patterns that heighten sensitivity to autonomy and peer validation.^[24] For individuals who are alienated, introverted, or uncertain of their social identity, digital spaces offer an accessible and emotionally safer terrain for building meaningful connections. Media, therefore, has a central role in the socialisation process.^[25] The very idea that these individuals become part of a jihadist web forum gives them the perceived notion of being part of a global movement.^[26] It acts as a platform for the formation of a new identity. Thus, it gives them ample space to meet and perceive like-minded individuals and move beyond an “isolated core group of conspirators”^[27] without easily drawing unnecessary attention.

Nevertheless, empirical research highlights the differential impact of online versus offline radicalisation. Individuals radicalised offline are generally more dangerous and more likely to carry out violent attacks: “Individuals who were radicalised offline were three times more likely than individuals radicalised online to complete an attack successfully. Those radicalised offline are 18 times more lethal than individuals in the online category. Those radicalised online are almost eight times more likely to fail than to succeed […] Individuals who were radicalised offline are almost three times more likely to attack or plot in groups than individuals radicalised online[...] Online radicalisation is on the rise for young people (born from the 2000s onwards), although most individuals, including young people, are still radicalised offline.”^[28]

Stakeholder Engagement  

The rise of online radicalisation has expanded both the number and type of stakeholders involved. While offline radicalisation is typically driven by family or kinship ties, religious leaders, peer networks, or local recruiters, outreach increases in cases of online influence. Online radicalisation engages a broader ecosystem, often including influencers, pseudo-scholars, memetic communities, and automated bots. The increase in actors expands both the reach and complexity of radicalisation pathways. Online radicalisation also involves soft forms of radicalisation through gaming streamers^[29] using extremist humour; pop culture gateways, including anime or meme culture; and motivational channels, which under the garb of motivation might transition into an ideological shift.

The case of Brenton Tarrant, the 28-year-old Australian responsible for the 2019 shootings at a mosque in Christchurch, New Zealand, provides a vivid example of onlife radicalisation. Tarrant, who described himself as an “ethno-nationalist” and “eco-fascist,” killed 51 Muslim worshippers and made many attempts to kill more at the Al Noor Mosque and Linwood Islamic Center. He live-streamed the attack on Facebook, and minutes earlier, an imageboard discussion on 8chan served as a virtual platform for ideological reinforcement, encouragement, and pre-event signalling.^[30] His actions serve as an example of how extremists can use hybrid online and offline environments to plan, rationalise, and publicise violent acts. That attack did not remain an isolated event; it has reverberated globally, inspiring attacks in Norway, Finland, the United States, Canada, and other regions.

Onlife Radicalisation and Homegrown Terrorism in Europe

The idea of ‘onlife’ radicalisation has an impact on homegrown terrorism in Europe, defined by the European Commission as the “phenomenon of people embracing opinions, views and ideas, which could lead to acts of terrorism.”^[31] The term became associated with extremism in the aftermath of 9/11. However, a striking feature of the London and Madrid attacks was that they were not carried out by al-Qaeda-trained operatives but by individuals “born and raised within the liberal social fabric of the European Union.”^[32] These attacks sparked intense debates within Western democracies. The West is often critiqued for providing, intentionally or unintentionally, “a conducive environment to immigrants to engage in jihadist terrorism.”^[33]

Consequently, within this wider discourse, homegrown terrorists came to be identified as those citizens and residents “born, raised, and educated within the countries they attack” and mostly whose groups have been “self-generated and independently organised.”^[34] Their trajectories illustrate a mode of radicalisation that unfolds across every institution they engage with—universities, neighbourhoods, places of worship, workplaces, and algorithmically mediated online ecosystems. They no longer identify themselves with the wider populace of the societies in which they reside. Instead, in contexts where they are perceived as the ‘other’, they reciprocally reframe the majority population as the ‘other’ within a broader imagined global community.

This dynamic is captured in the words of Mohammed Bouyeri, the son of Moroccan immigrants to the Netherlands who had killed Dutch filmmaker Theo van Gogh in November 2025. In the courtroom months later, Bouyeri said to van Gogh’s mother: “I can’t feel for you because you’re a non-believer.”^[35] Such a testimony highlights not only ideological certitude but also the degree of radicalisation, isolation, and cognitive closure emerging within hybrid onlife spaces. As Manciulli (2017) observes: “Digital communication has both inspired and enabled the execution of attacks at the heart of nations that were once unfamiliar with (non-domestic) extremist violence. This has essentially nullified the protection provided by EU borders. Moreover, the propagation of the extremist message has become so pervasive that it has given rise to undetectable radical movements within Europe.”^[36]

These insights illustrate the interplay between individual commitment and the structural capacities of the onlife environment. This shift from foreign training camps to domestically radicalised individuals underscores why the offline/online binary is inadequate. Ducol (2015) calls this binary a “false dichotomy.”^[37] The European experience exemplifies that radicalisation is relational and personalised, spanning the hybrid continuum of onlife. It manifests across both online and offline dimensions. 

Recruitment and Hybrid Propaganda of ISIS and al-Qaeda 

Offline exposure and personal grievances often form the initial grounds for radicalisation. These physical interactions serve as a catalyst for discontent and are complemented by digital propaganda, reinforcing one another. In Europe, ISIS and al-Qaeda use online platforms to reach individuals far removed from conflict areas. Sageman’s (2011) conceptualisation of “leaderless jihad”^[38] emphasises how al-Qaeda’s decentralised terror model evolved from a traditional terror network headed by a leader to now a form where individuals self-radicalise through online ideological material. The enduring presence of these organisations, especially ISIS, has been materialised through their ability to generate wealth from the areas they control and refine their propaganda by utilising a multi-linguistic communication strategy that is delivered through new publications, across online and offline channels.^[39] Thus, the frequent consumption of extremist content facilitates radicalisation.^[40]

While internet access is widespread, these terror groups exploit it in ways that often exceed the capabilities of ordinary users and, at times, even state authorities. They operate across platforms and information networks not readily accessible to the public. “All the real-world participants in the Islamic militant movement”^[41]—from al-Qaeda’s leadership and strategists to grassroots operatives—are embedded in this digital sphere. Crucially, these participants are not passive consumers of information; they contribute to the anarchic structure of this online space. Recruitment by these groups takes place through dual pathways: “Internet-supported recruitment” and “self-recruitment.” However, there is little evidence to determine whether the recruitment happened willingly or was influenced by external manipulation.

Neumann (2008) highlights the case of London-born Younis Tsouli, who radicalised entirely online through interactions on jihadist forums under the username Irhabi 007 (Irhabi means ‘terrorist’ in Arabic). Through these forums, Tsouli established a virtual relationship with the then al-Qaeda spokesperson Abu Musab al-Zarqawi in Mesopotamia.^[42] As a result, he joined the movement as a suicide attacker. Thus, Neumann observes: “The story of Tsouli is compelling because not only had the 22-year-old progressed from being a nobody to being one of the movement's most prominent figures in less than a year, he had radicalised himself to the point where he decided to become a martyr in the real world. The key point here is that neither his online career nor his radicalisation had ever required him to leave the comfort of his home. They all took place virtually, with Tsouli acting as his own recruiter.”^[43]

The case of Tsouli emphasises the agency of recruits in traversing the onlife environments. It shows that radicalisation is not merely a top-down approach but a dynamic process driven by individual initiative and a facilitator—irrespective of their geographical position and algorithmically amplified content.

Conclusion

This analysis has demonstrated that onlife radicalisation reorganises social connections by prioritising emotional intensity over geographical proximity. Individuals often establish strong parasocial attachments to charismatic ideologues and imagined global communities—attachments that may outweigh relationships with family, colleagues, or neighbours. These links may be established purely through internet-mediated communication, yet their psychological impact mirrors that of in-person networks. Cases such as Mohammed Bouyeri’s and others indicate that ideological conviction is not just inherited from communal institutions but is formed through repetitive engagement with online propaganda, peer affirmations, and algorithmically amplified content.

Radicalisation in Europe should no longer be understood through online/offline binaries. Instead, an integrated onlife approach is essential, which identifies the factors contributing to the ‘othering’ of individuals across both online and offline settings. This perspective is most effective in designing the counter-radicalisation policies of European states, given the enduring success of ISIS and al-Qaeda in Europe, which exploit multi-linguistic strategies and hybrid networks to radicalise individuals across geographies. Their impact is now gradually extending to the lone-wolf attackers in Europe, indicating that radicalisation is no longer limited to organised networks but thrives in dispersed onlife spaces.

For European policymakers, these findings bear critical implications:

• Counter-radicalisation initiatives must adopt an integrated onlife approach, acknowledging that extremist beliefs work fluidly across online and offline domains. Counter-radicalisation efforts by the states should therefore combine digital literacy campaigns and community-based interventions to disrupt both online radicalisation routes and offline recruitment networks.
• Interventions must target not only at-risk individuals but also the broader ecosystems that support radicalisation, including diaspora networks and transnational ideological flows.
• Rather than depending exclusively on surveillance or policing tactics, initiatives should prioritise resilience-building, critical thinking, and alternative paths for social integration given the agency of recruits.
• Collaboration between European states, technology corporations, civil society organisations, and local communities is important to establish a coordinated and adaptable response capable of tackling the continuously evolving methods of extremist groups.

This brief has demonstrated that radicalisation in onlife spaces is not merely a European phenomenon but a global one. From the terror attacks in North America to the Christchurch shootings in New Zealand, the same patterns emerge: algorithmically amplified propaganda, digitally mediated recruitment, and the agency of individuals navigating these onlife ecosystems.

Policy responses therefore cannot remain confined to geographical regions; rather, governments and international organisations must adopt integrated strategies to arrest radicalisation across physical and digital realms. The global spread of radicalisation underscores the need for coordinated, multi-level interventions that bridge community involvement, online monitoring, and focused counter-radicalisation initiatives. 

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Shreya Nautiyal is a PhD candidate at the Centre for European Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University.

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All views expressed in this publication are solely those of the author, and do not represent the Observer Research Foundation, either in its entirety or its officials and personnel.

Endnotes

^[1] Anis Amri, “Counter Extremism Project,” 2016, https://www.counterextremism.com/extremists/anis-amri.

^[2] Alex P. Schmid, “Radicalisation, De-Radicalisation, Counter-Radicalisation: A Conceptual Discussion and Literature Review,” ICCT Research Paper (2013), http://dx.doi.org/10.19165/2013.1.02: 6.

^[3] European Commission’s Expert Group on Violent Radicalisation, Radicalisation Processes Leading to Acts of Terrorism (submitted to the European Commission on 15 May 2008),

https://www.clingendael.org/sites/default/files/pdfs/20080500_cscp_report_vries.pdf.

^[4]  Bob Dale, “Teenager Admits Sharing Terrorist Material Online,” BBC News, April 2, 2025, https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c1750erjeeno.

^[5] Luciano Floridi, “The Onlife Manifesto: Being Human In A Hyperconnected Era,” Springer Nature, 2015, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-04093-6.

^[6] Daniele Valentini, Anna Maria Lorusso, and Achim Stephan, “Onlife Extremism: Dynamic Integration of Digital and Physical Spaces in Radicalization,” Frontiers in Psychology 11 (2020), https://www.frontiersin.org/journals/psychology/articles/10.3389/fpsyg.2020.00524/full.

^[7] EBSCO Knowledge Advantage, “Madrid Commuter Train Bombing,” Diplomacy and International Relations (2021), https://www.ebsco.com/research-starters/diplomacy-and-international-relations/madrid-commuter-train-bombing.

^[8] “Suicide Bombers’ ‘Ordinary’ Lives,” BBC News, July 18, 2005, http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/4678837.stm.

^[9] Lars Erik Berntzen and Aveinung Sandberg, “The Collective Nature of Lone Wolf Terrorism: Anders Behring Breivik and the Anti-Islamic Social Movement,” Terrorism and Political Violence (2014), https://psycnet.apa.org/record/2014-45691-003.

^[10] Angelique Chrisafis, “Charlie Hebdo Attackers: Born, Raised and Radicalised in Paris,” The Guardian, January 12, 2015, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/jan/12/-sp-charlie-hebdo-attackers-kids-france-radicalised-paris.

^[11] European Parliament, Radicalisation in the EU: What Is It? How Can It Be Prevented? (2021), https://www.europarl.europa.eu/topics/en/article/20210121STO96105/radicalisation-in-the-eu-what-is-it-how-can-it-be-prevented.

^[12] Gavin Bailey and Phil Edwards, “Rethinking ‘Radicalisation’: Microradicalisations and Reciprocal Radicalisation as an Intertwined Process,” Journal for Deradicalization 10 (2017): 255–281, https://journals.sfu.ca/jd/index.php/jd/article/view/92/81.

^[13] Mark Sedgwick, “The Concept of Radicalization as a Source of Confusion,” Terrorism and Political Violence 22, no. 4 (2010): 479–494, https://www.researchgate.net/publication/232940707_The_Concept_of_Radicalization_as_a_Source_of_Confusion.

^[14] Arun Kundnani, “Radicalisation: The Journey of a Concept,” Race & Class 54, no. 2 (2012), 4, https://doi.org/10.1177/0306396812454984.

^[15] Kundnani, “Radicalisation: The Journey of a Concept,” 5.

^[16] Laura Wiktorowicz, "Developmental Changes in Decision Making,” (2017), https://arno.uvt.nl/show.cgi?fid=144663.

^[17] Quintan Wiktorowicz, “Joining The Cause: Al-Muhajiroun And Radical Islam,” The Roots of Radical Islam (2004), https://securitypolicylaw.syr.edu/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/Wiktorowicz.Joining-the-Cause.pdf.

^[18] Caitlin Clemmow, Noémie Bouhana, Zoe Marchment, and Paul Gill, "Vulnerability to Radicalisation in a General Population: A Psychometric Network Approach,” Psychology, Crime & Law 29, no. 4 (2023), 426, https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/1068316X.2022.2027944#d1e268.

^[19] Wiktorowicz, "Developmental Changes in Decision Making”.

^[20] Henri Astier, “Paris Attacks: Prisons Provide Fertile Ground For Islamists,” BBC News, February 5, 2015, https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-31129398.

^[21] Nafees Hamid and Cristina Ariza, “Offline versus Online Radicalisation: Which Is the Bigger Threat,” Global Network on Extremism & Technology (2022), 26, https://gnet-research.org/2022/02/21/offline-versus-online-radicalisation-which-is-the-bigger-threat/.

^[22] Clemmow et al., "Vulnerability to Radicalisation in a General Population,” 431.

^[23] Wiktorowicz, “Developmental Changes in Decision Making,” 9.

^[24] G. M. Rosenbaum, V. Venkatraman, L. Steinberg, and J. M. Chein, “Do Adolescents Always Take More Risks than Adults? A Within-Subjects Developmental Study of Context Effects on Decision Making and Processing,” PLoS ONE 16, no. 8 (2021): e0255102, https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0255102.

^[25] Jeffrey Jensen Arnett, “Adolescents’ Uses of Media for Self-Socialization,” Journal of Youth and Adolescence 24, no. 5 (1995): 519–533, https://doi.org/10.1007/BF01537054.

^[26] Peter R. Neumann, “Chapter Five: The Internet,” The Adelphi Papers 48, no. 399 (2008): 55, https://doi.org/10.1080/05679320802686841.

^[27]Neumann, “Chapter Five: The Internet,” 55.

^[28] Hamid and Ariza, “Offline versus Online Radicalisation,” 1.

^[29] Maja Halilovic-Pastuovic, Gillian Wylie, and Neven Vukic, “Towards a Sociology of Gaming and Radicalisation,” (2024), https://doi.org/10.1080/17539153.2024.2380547.

^[30] Suraj Lakhani, “The Gamification of Violent Extremism: An Empirical Exploration of the Christchurch Attack,” Global Network on Extremism & Technology, June 10, 2022, https://gnet-research.org/2022/06/10/the-gamification-of-violent-extremism-an-empirical-exploration-of-the-christchurch-attack/

^[31] European Parliament, Radicalisation in the EU.

^[32] Valentini and Stephan, Situating Emotions in Radicalization, 5.

^[33] Alex S. Wilner and Claire-Jehanne Dubouloz, “Homegrown Terrorism and Transformative Learning: An Interdisciplinary Approach to Understanding Radicalization,” Global Change, Peace & Security 22, no. 1 (2010): 33, https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/14781150903487956#d1e671.

^[34] Wilner and Dubouloz, “Homegrown Terrorism and Transformative Learning”.

^[35] Anthony Browne, “I Feel No Sympathy for You, Killer Tells van Gogh Family,” The Times, July 13, 2005, https://www.thetimes.com/travel/destinations/europe-travel/netherlands/amsterdam/i-feel-no-sympathy-for-you-killer-tells-van-gogh-family-0p2wfgl3s6n

^[36] Andrea Manciulli, “ISIL/Daesh and Al-Qaeda Threat to Europe,” NATO Paper (2017), 1, https://www.nato-pa.int/document/2017-isildaesh-and-al-qaeda-threat-europe-manciulli-report-091-gsm-17-e-rev-2-fin.

^[37] Benjamin Ducol, “A Radical Sociability: In Defense of an Online/Offline Multidimensional Approach to Radicalization,” in Social Networks, Terrorism and Counter-Terrorism (London: Routledge, 2015), 90, https://doi.org/10.4324/9781315738291.

^[38] Marc Sageman, Leaderless Jihad: Terror Networks in the Twenty-First Century (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2011), https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctt3fhbht.

^[39] Manciulli, “ISIL/Daesh and Al-Qaeda Threat to Europe,” 4.

^[40] Tom Holt, Joshua D. Freilich, Steven Chermak, and Clark McCauley, “Political Radicalization on the Internet: Extremist Content, Government Control, and the Power of Victim and Jihad Videos,” Dynamics of Asymmetric Conflict 8, no. 2 (2015): 107–120. https://doi.org/10.1080/17467586.2015.1065101.

^[41] Neumann, “Chapter Five: The Internet,” 53.

^[42] Neumann, “Chapter Five: The Internet,” 56.

^[43] Neumann, “Chapter Five: The Internet,” 57.

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