ISIS

by Jessica Stern

  Gadahn helped modernize the media operation. He embraced digital recording and editing, and online methods of distribution. With his involvement, al Qaeda produced a documentary/dramatization of the planning for the 9/11 attacks called The 19 Martyrs and a faux news program, Voice of the Caliphate, which lasted only one episode.4

  Gadahn had a knack for what the television industry refers to as “high concept” ideas—a two-sentence pitch that sounds novel and exciting—but his execution was not especially memorable. Most of his overproduced videos disappeared like rocks thrown into a pond, their ripples fading quickly. The lack of traction and the toll of avoiding ongoing counterterrorism activity in the Afghanistan-Pakistan border region resulted in a steady decline in the quality of al Qaeda’s propaganda releases.

  By the time Osama bin Laden was killed in 2011, al Qaeda’s media output largely consisted of tedious position papers delivered by a succession of ideologues staring straight into a camera, sometimes for an hour or more. Sometimes the media branch provided high-tech computer-generated backdrops in a desperate bid to add some visual interest. Raw videos captured when bin Laden was killed showed him delivering speeches in front of a closet in his house, which was later digitally replaced with a neutral backdrop.5

  In the early days, al Qaeda in Iraq hewed closely to traditional jihadist propaganda, but it did not take long to distinguish itself. Echoing videos from Soviet-era Afghanistan and later Bosnia, AQI put a premium on combat scenes, releasing clip after clip of IED explosions, mortar fire, and sniper attacks. The quality of the footage was frequently terrible, much of it shot on cheap handheld digital cameras. But the quantity was remarkable.

  The combat clips were distributed individually, then collected by technically proficient online supporters, who strung them together into lengthy montages with a sound track of anasheed (Islamic a capella religious songs; simply nasheed when referring to just one), bookended by computer animated title sequences. Sometimes they added clips from the news to frame the mayhem.

  Soon there were more ambitious efforts, such as “The Expedition of Shaykh Umar Hadid.” In these early productions, AQI’s media department had found the germ of an idea—storytelling. Although the videos were still often bloated with exposition and rambling religious lectures, more examples began to emerge with self-contained narratives that fit within the broader story of the war.

  But most of all, al Qaeda in Iraq differentiated itself with graphic violence. Starting in 2004, with the videotaped execution of American contractor Nicholas Berg, AQI released a seemingly unending series of videos showing the execution of hostages and prisoners, often by decapitation (or near decapitation). At least eighty such videos were released during the AQI era, many featuring multiple victims. They came in a remarkable variety, from nearly anonymous snuff films to at least three videos showing public executions in front of sometimes-cheering spectators on Iraqi city streets.6

  The pace and quality of these productions ebbed and flowed with the strength of al Qaeda in Iraq. Although its output was voluminous, the quality was spotty and with a few rare exceptions, most of its videos would have been forgettable if not for the shocking brutality, which came to define the group so completely that even the leaders of al Qaeda Central objected.

  “Among the things which the feelings of the Muslim populace who love and support you will never find palatable . . . are the scenes of slaughtering the hostages,” wrote Ayman al Zawahiri, then al Qaeda’s second in command, to AQI’s emir, Abu Musab Zarqawi, in 2005. “You shouldn’t be deceived by the praise of some of the zealous young men and their description of you as the shaykh of the slaughterers. . . . We are in a battle, and more than half of this battle is taking place in the battlefield of the media.”7

  Al Qaeda in Iraq tempered, but did not stop, its documentation of atrocities. But its successor group would eventually take Zawahiri’s last point to heart.

  In 2010, as the rechristened Islamic State in Iraq was reaching new lows, control of the organization passed to Abu Bakr al Baghdadi. While terrorist groups are often shrouded in secrecy, Baghdadi took his anonymity to extraordinary heights, forgoing al Qaeda–style communiqués and functioning largely in the shadows.

  The burden of communicating ISI’s message and agenda fell instead on the group’s spokesman, Abu Muhammad al Adnani. Born in Syria under the name Taha Sobhi Falaha, Adnani articulated ISI’s talking points in a series of audio statements.

  In 2011, one of his speeches proved to be a defining moment. Titled “The Islamic State Will Remain,” it acknowledged the group’s setbacks but set a defiant tone. Predicting a return to the glory days, he vowed that ISI would fight on despite any setback.8

  “How powerful you are!” Adnani told ISI’s supporters, over and over again. “How good you are!” And to its enemies, his message was also clear: “The Islamic State will remain,” he said, using the Arabic word baqiyyah, which can also be read as “survive.”

  “The Islamic State will survive despite your sects, alliances, armies, and weapons,” he proclaimed. “It will survive despite your plots and conspiracies.”

  The contrast between Adnani’s speech and the besieged attitude emanating from al Qaeda Central could hardly be starker. AQC’s messaging felt increasingly disconnected from the battle. One of Osama bin Laden’s final speeches focused on climate change. Zawahiri, his successor, had launched into an hours-long series of commentaries on the Arab Spring that seemed to emerge in slow motion, sometimes referencing events months past, in which he seemed to grope for relevance.9

  Adnani’s words were electrifying to the supporters of ISI, who transformed baqiyyah into a slogan and battle cry. In subsequent videos, fighters shouted it defiantly. On jihadist Internet forums and social media outlets, they adopted it as a marker of loyalty. It also set a tone that ISIS would, over time, refine and propagate throughout its messaging.

  The prodigious propaganda output of ISIS in all its incarnations could fill a book by itself, spanning books, lectures, magazines, audio, video, tweets, and Facebook posts (for more on social media, see Chapters 6 and 7).

  THE CLANGING OF THE SWORDS

  One series perhaps best illustrates the dramatic transformation that made the nearly extinguished al Qaeda affiliate into a powerful independent force.

  Salil as-Sawarim (The Clanging/Clash of the Swords) launched in June 2012.10 Its opening installment was billed as the first in an ongoing series, a tactic increasingly favored by the group’s propagandists. Those watching The Clanging of the Swords Part 1 would have seen few clues about what was to come.

  A little more than an hour long, it was a fairly typical piece of jihadi agitprop for the late 2000s, if slightly more violent. Its author mashed together static clips of jihadi ideologues lecturing, talking-head segments lifted from Middle Eastern news broadcasts, and a number of unevenly filmed guerrilla-style combat scenes. Most of the malice in the video was directed against Iraqi Shi’a politicians, whom it described (not entirely inaccurately) as being under the influence of Iran. The video waxed on about the atrocities Muslims were suffering at the hands of the Shi’a in Iraq.

  There is a well-known saying of unknown origin, “War is long periods of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror.” The Clanging of the Swords consisted of long periods of boredom punctuated by distant explosions and images of dead bodies.

  In July, ISI’s notoriously anonymous emir Abu Bakr al Baghdadi released his first audio lecture, a defiant speech full of fire and seemingly irrational optimism. The thirty-three-minute speech used some variation of the word “victory” twenty-one times. “Allah promised us victory, triumph, and power,” he said. “Allah will keep His promise at all times.” He also announced a new initiative, “Breaking Down the Walls,” an ambitious strategy to free the many jihadist prisoners languishing in Iraqi jails.11

  A few weeks later, in August, The Clanging of the Swords Part 2 was released.12 It was significantly different than its predecessor. Gone wer
e the polemics. Instead, the new video consisted almost entirely of combat footage. But that too was different. The quality of the video and the camera work were significantly better. In places, the quality was comparable to a professional television program, telling a story in narrative form.

  It’s possible that the creator of Part 1 was a quick study, but the huge improvement suggests Part 2 was the work of a different filmmaker.

  Where the first film had strung together many small combat clips with little context, the forty-nine-minute sequel followed a single operation, an assault on Haditha, Iraq, from training to the death of two fighters in a friendly fire incident, all presented in a cinema verité style.

  In the video, ISI fighters attack checkpoints outside the city, then storm the homes of men identified as the local counterterrorism officials. At least eight prisoners are taken during the operation and executed.

  While past jihadi videos had followed specific operations in some detail, The Clanging of the Swords Part 2 was a remarkable leap forward, thanks to its combination of tight editing, technical quality, attention to detail, and graphic violence.

  It had also subtly dropped a key element of al Qaeda propaganda.

  In many ways, al Qaeda’s ideology and strategy were explicitly predicated on assumptions of weakness.

  In its worldview and favored ideological justifications, jihad was an act of defense, or at least that was the line they sold to the world. Self-defense was easier to rationalize—and sell—than an improbable vision of global domination. So al Qaeda’s recruitment materials and fund-raising activities brimmed over with talk of “the plight of Muslims,” steeped in pathos.13 According to al Qaeda’s ideologues, this urgent and existential danger was the entire reason for the organization’s existence.

  The concept of weakness also figured heavily in strategy. Tactically, weakness justified asymmetrical warfare in the form of terrorist attacks on soft civilian targets, on the premise that al Qaeda was too weak to militarily confront its enemies.14

  Weakness also factored into the choice of enemy. Over time, al Qaeda had adopted the view that “apostate” Arab regimes—al Qaeda’s real enemy—dominated the Middle East thanks to American military and economic support. As bin Laden famously put it, the United States was “the head of the snake,” which must be cut off before the day could be won.

  Jihadists commonly characterized this as a distinction between the “near enemy” (Middle East regimes) and the “far enemy” (Western governments). Because of the far enemy’s support, direct opposition to the near enemy was believed to be impossible.

  The tumult of the Arab Spring, along with the growth of al Qaeda’s affiliate system (Chapters 3 and 8), had already begun to undercut this concept, and ISI was poised to directly challenge it.

  The Clanging of the Swords Part 2 sent a clear message, video proof that the near enemy was vulnerable. It wasted no time on justifications and dropped the theme of persecution and oppression that had been present in the first installment just weeks earlier.

  Instead, the sequel depicted ISI as a strong force meting out rough justice against deserving enemies. Although there had been examples of jihadist propaganda before that combined many of these elements, The Clanging of the Swords Part 2 had a special power, thanks to the combination of technical prowess and aggressive tone.

  Part 3 was released in January 2013. The new release was a documentary about “Breaking Down the Walls,” delivering on the campaign Baghdadi had promised in July.15

  With much of the action recorded in high definition, Clanging 3 showed distinct signs of being filmed with professional video equipment by experienced cameramen. Some scenes were shot with multiple cameras, allowing the action to unfold from different angles. Others continued the verité style of Part 2, with handheld footage of live combat operations.

  Several operations were labeled “Breaking Down the Walls.” The filmmakers also filmed discussions among masked ISI fighters and interviewed prisoners who had been freed by ISI or escaped of their own accord.

  At one point, the video displayed a sly and unexpected sense of humor, showing ISI members’ efforts to rescue a camel that had fallen into a pit. A caption described it as an operation to “liberate a prisoner in the desert.”

  It was an even grander affair than the previous installment, but less dramatic and effective, clocking in at an overstuffed eighty minutes. Although Part 3 was another step forward in ambition and technical execution, it was a step backward in terms of focus and storytelling, to some extent lapsing into the earlier model of ISI propaganda, which resembled a laundry list of armed confrontations.

  The through-line of “Breaking Down the Walls” was not strong enough to hold the video together as a unified narrative. Even the greatly escalated body count could not compensate for the repetitive nature of the footage.

  The propagandists were still learning.

  In May 2014, The Clanging of the Swords Part 4 premiered on the Internet. The release marked a graduation of sorts. The members of ISIS’s media team could no longer be considered students; they were now fully professional.

  The sixty-two-minute video opened with aerial footage of Fallujah filmed by a drone. The ISIS drone was little more than a hobbyist’s toy, a flying camera remote controlled by radio, but the symbolism was powerful and clear: The enemy’s most feared and hated weapon was now part of ISIS’s arsenal.

  What followed was an untrammeled show of strength. As the narrator boasted of the vast area controlled by ISIS, masked jihadis paraded in armored columns through the streets, with apparently admiring throngs gathered to watch. After a rousing speech, a nasheed played over gripping scenes of car-to-car combat, incongruously framed by a Native American dream catcher ornament swinging from the driver’s rearview mirror.

  Captions claimed the victims were Shi’a soldiers on their way to join Iraqi military units, but to all appearances, the ISIS fighters were driving around shooting at whatever random cars they passed and even pedestrians. When the camera panned over the dead occupants of one beat-up old vehicle, the victims were young men dressed in shorts and T-shirts. Most of their targets were visibly unarmed. Only the captions differentiated the scene from an indiscriminate massacre.

  “The clash of swords is the song of the defiant,” singers chanted in Arabic over the slaughter, “and the path of fighting is the path of life.”

  Following this brutal carnage, the tone changed. In a public meeting, ISIS fighters offered clemency to anyone who had fought them in the past if they would only renounce the errors of their ways. One man after another stepped up, publicly recanted, and received warm embraces.

  A considerable amount of combat followed, this time against visibly armed, military targets, followed by a suicide bombing and a checkpoint operation. Foreign fighters were shown burning their passports and renouncing the citizenship of their native lands. Unlike the previous installments in the series, the clips were shorter and punchier. The shift between fighting scenes, executions, and noncombat events helped elevate the ultraviolent video, giving a sense that while ISIS was unapologetically brutal, it had more to offer than just violence.

  “Oh our people, Ahlus Sunna [adherents to the traditions of Islam], indeed the Islamic State exists only to defend you, and protect your rights, and stand in the face of your enemies,” a narrator said, using the name the group had not yet formally adopted. “Indeed, the Islamic State is your one true hope, after Allah.”

  About halfway into the hourlong video, the executions of prisoners began, followed by scenes of sniper killings. The body count at this point reached into the dozens, and ISIS wasn’t finished yet. At the thirty-seven-minute mark, a cameraman interviewed captured Iraqi soldiers who were being forced to dig their own graves. More combat and ambushes followed, periodically interspersed with scenes of ISIS’s mercy toward those who would disavow their previous opposition.

  “We don’t want you to come to this place and repent out of fear of us, beca
use if you fear us, there’s no good in you,” a masked speaker told one gathering. “We want your repentance and return to be due to the fear of Allah.”

  “Oh my ummah, a new dawn has emerged, so witness the clear victory,” the singers chanted. “The Islamic State has been established by the blood of the truthful. No one will ever stand between the mujahideen and their people in Iraq after this day.”

  “The Islamic State has attacked, and surrounded the tyrants,” they sang.

  Over the final scene of a mujahid slowly walking, carrying the black ISIS flag, a narrator closed out the film with reference to an apocalyptic prophecy.

  “And so the flame was started in Iraq, and its heat will increase by the will of Allah until it burns the crusaders in Dabiq,” a town in Syria that ISIS adherents believed would be the location of a decisive battle with the “Crusaders.” (See Chapter 10.)

  The Clanging of the Swords Part 4 was wildly successful. It racked up millions of views on video-sharing platforms, although the numbers were almost certainly inflated (perhaps exponentially) by ISIS’s deceptive social media techniques. Regardless of the total number of viewers, the video created vast excitement among those who followed ISIS online and many who were vulnerable to its message. The overarching theme of ISIS propaganda had been condensed and purified, and the message was “We are strong, and we are winning.”

  RACE TO THE CALIPHATE

  While the quality of ISIS video releases would continue to fluctuate, overall the media team improved steadily over time, even as the quantity of its output increased. The growing focus on the packaging of the message corresponded to a new emphasis on its content. While ISIS made gains on the ground in Iraq, it was also expanding the definition of both the war and the organization itself. The media efforts fertilized the ground where ISIS would plant its next bold claim to religious authority—the declaration of the caliphate.