Those at the heart of the
scheme have insisted the new facility will not be a ‘special prison’ but rather
‘a place for intensive counselling for ex-terrorists’. But given the stated
aims include preventing the spread of radical views among general prison
populations and easing pressure on overcrowded penitentiaries, the impetus for
isolation appears to be broader than simply pre-parole preparation.
The underlying dilemma is
one that a number of governments are currently pondering: is it better to
segregate extremist prisoners or disperse them among the general inmate
population?
The first conscious decision
to disperse terrorist prisoners came in the United Kingdom in the 1970s, in
response to the Irish Republican Army’s penitentiary power base within the
notorious Maze Prison in Belfast. Today, unmanageable inmates — both extremists
and otherwise — are routinely shifted between eight dispersal prisons in order
to avoid the entrenchment of problems and the development of undesirable
relationships.
Preventing the concentration
of prisoners with similar extremist worldviews may mitigate the chance of
ideologies becoming further internalised. Proponents also argue that
interaction with group outsiders can promote social inclusion among extremists.
Valuable intelligence may be collected from the close observation of these
dynamics.
But there is an obvious
problem associated with integrating persuasive radicals and naïve delinquents
under the same roof. The unstructured nature of
the global jihadist movement, and its combination of
anti-establishment rhetoric with an ostensibly pious religious framework, means
it is generally open to anyone. The global jihadist movement is potentially
attractive to angry young criminals seeking both redemption and the protection
of a prison gang.
Spain has recognised the
danger of inmate recruitment. While the government maintains a dispersal policy
for imprisoned ethno-nationalist Basque separatists, jihadi extremists are
largely segregated from the general prison population. The UK is also
revisiting the utility of dispersal. Is the strategic separation of imprisoned
extremists a better option?
The United States houses the
majority of its extremist prisoners in two relatively new maximum security
facilities called Communication Management Units. As the name suggests, these
specialised prisons allow for total control and surveillance of inmates’
interactions. Security is the absolute priority and the reportedly repressive
environments are not ideally conducive to rehabilitation initiatives. Although
the US approach does not involve total segregation of extremist prisoners, the
two facilities are often referred to as ‘Guantanamo North’.
Obstacles to
rehabilitation are a key problem with the segregation model. US Vice
President Joe Biden once called the Guantanamo Bay prison complex ‘the greatest
propaganda tool that exists for recruiting terrorists around the world’. While
other cases of extremist prisoners being segregated are not logically
equivalent, memories of Guantanamo scandals and the Abu Ghraib atrocity mean
that any remotely comparable facility risks being painted with the same brush.
France appears to be seeking
to avoid this problem by creating designated wings for extremists in
established prisons. Two were completed in January 2016 and the government
plans to have five up and running by the end of March. The specialised wings
will differ from the US model in that rehabilitation — or so-called
de-radicalisation efforts — will be the focus, with dozens of counsellors and
psychologists recruited to work towards positive change.
An interesting example of a
mixed approach is Denmark. Instead of opting for outright segregation, the
Danish authorities have decided to remove prisoners they believe are vulnerable
to influence while maintaining interactions between extremists and inmates
deemed resistant. Given the right conditions and context, this could well be a
promising strategy.
So how do Indonesia’s
proposed changes measure up?
Authorities in Indonesia are
well aware of the dispersal–segregation dilemma. The head of the BNPT’s
de-radicalisation division, Dr Irfan Idris, has been quoted in the media
summarising the drawbacks of each approach. There have been reported cases of
prisoners and even guards succumbing to the influence of charismatic extremists
behind bars in Indonesia. Yet authorities are concerned that a segregation
model would allow militants to close ranks, as witnessed in Belfast’s Maze
Prison.
The specialised centre in
Sentul was close to realisation in 2014, when a memorandum of understanding was
signed between the BNPT and the Ministry of Law and Human Rights to begin
transferring prisoners. But a subsequent visit by the then president Susilo
Bambang Yudhoyono scuppered the plans, as the former leader expressed
apprehension about the facility’s proximity to the capital.
Yudhoyono also warned that
the centre ‘must not be like Guantanamo’. The fact that proponents have claimed
the current scheme merely amounts to a counselling facility for ‘ex-terrorists’
appears to be aimed at extenuating this type of attribution. The newly
appointed head of the BNPT, Inspector General Tito Karnavian, has stated that
prevention and rehabilitation are the agency’s primary functions.
If the Sentul plan goes
ahead and is well managed, it could provide a long-awaited opportunity to
establish a robust disengagement program in Indonesia, while avoiding the
problem of general inmate
radicalisation. The de-radicalisation facility needs to balance the
internal challenge of preventing undesired unity among extremists and the
external one of placating public perceptions. But the potential benefits
outweigh the possible risks.
Cameron Sumpter is a Senior
Analyst at the Centre of Excellence for National Security (CENS), a constituent
unit of the S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies (RSIS), Nanyang
Technological University (NTU), Singapore.
This article was first
published by RSIS.
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