Last week’s third and final report by Sir John Saunders into the Manchester Arena bombing offered numerous startling insights into Salman Abedi, whose murderous instincts cost the lives of 22 people at the end of an Ariana Grande concert in 2017. Among them was the observation that Abedi’s actions could be traced to his family; the “noxious” absences of his parents; their extremist views along with those of his older brother. It was Abedi’s family, said Saunders, who held “significant responsibility” for the radicalisation of Abedi and his younger brother, Hashem.
Their father, Ramadan, was an active member of the Libyan Islamic Fighting Group (LIFG). Like many Islamists, he sought refuge in the UK in 1993 as Muammar Gaddafi’s security apparatus hunted them. Many children of Islamist leaders who sought refuge in our country grew up to become activists and mouthpieces for an Islamist set of narratives that was never really part of British Muslim communities before the mid-90s. Steeped in victimhood, “the west” versus Islam, such narratives propagated heavily laden conspiracies that Islam was under threat.
Yet, for someone like me who was in his teens and early 20s in the 90s, and who came across Islamist pamphlets in London, it was clear that groups such as the LIFG had morphed into a profoundly violent guerrilla force. Libyan soldiers were ambushed, the dead paraded for propaganda videos and pictures, many of which found their way on to London’s streets.
It became a form of Islamist propaganda, seeking donations, people and resources from the UK’s Libyan diaspora and from a cohort of British Muslims unable to distinguish between violent Islamism and the hijacking of their faith. Such groups enthusiastically played up their Islamic credentials.
The danger of a grave risk rebounding on us was always evident in Libya. Yet the hubris of Britain’s political leaders in believing that Gaddafi could suppress Islamism and stabilise Libya significantly underplayed that threat. Decades ago, we had several clear indicators warning of the potential for “blowback” into the UK if Libya became destabilised, simply because violent Islamist propaganda networks were already in full swing and getting stronger as more Islamist leaders sought refuge here. This two-way flow of people, ideas and thoughts between Libya and the UK could not be stopped. Still, our political masters clung to the belief that Gaddafi was the panacea to terrorism.
Furthermore, three years before the Manchester Arena attack, the death of two Brighton-based Islamist fighters in groups affiliated with al-Qaida should have sounded another alarm call for our security services. Those two young men were Jaffar and Abdullah Deghayes, whose father was imprisoned 10 months ago for urging jihad “by sword” in a Brighton mosque. Both died fighting in Syria, but their trajectory to Islamism can be traced to lives split between Libya and the UK. The children shuttled between the two countries, had erratic paternal support and were disoriented from the clash of cultures and social environments they endured.
This sense of identity dislocation probably stayed with them, part of a destabilising cocktail of ingredients that supported the Deghayes brothers’ decision to fight in Syria. Yet, as with Salman and Hashem Abedi, the fact that Islamist groups were militarily active after the fall of Gaddafi in 2011 ought to have aroused a greater focus on anyone entering Libya and returning to the UK during this period.
It seems, however, that between 2014 and 2017 the security services became preoccupied with Syria and Iraq, at the expense of a focus on Libya.
What is also puzzling is the extent of assessments into the impact of terrorist group al-Qaida in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) after it became active in the region from 2007. Extremist groups bled into others, factions migrated into the Sahel region, which continues to be a hotbed for violent Islamist groups. Such groups exploit the region to stage attacks on neighbouring states.
Libya, which split into factionalism after Gaddafi’s death, became ideal for extremists looking to radicalise a younger generation.
The tragic reality is that too many families are living with the scars from that dreadful night in Manchester, pain that will stay with them forever. As Saunders says in his report, much more could have been done to scrutinise the risk from those travelling to and from Libya in the years before the attack. Sadly, while watching Syria and Iraq, it seems Libya slipped off the security service’s radar.
• Fiyaz Mughal is the founder of Faith Matters – an organisation that works to counter extremism
Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a letter of up to 250 words to be considered for publication, email it to us at observer.letters@observer.co.uk
