Al-Qaeda recruits undergo training on the Afghan border

Peter Taylor

It took months to get to the man I must call “Kasim”. I’d heard about a wannabe British jihadist who had been injured in a US drone attack in Waziristan, Pakistan, but he was not easy to find, and, once found, he was clearly uneasy. With good reason. There are probably many people far scarier than me who would like to meet him.

We met in Blackpool on a filthy day, in the pouring rain, when the sky was as dark as the sea. I guessed he was in his mid-twenties. He wore a baseball cap pulled well down over his eyes as we walked between the great iron gantries of the pier and talked.

Like many young Muslims who embrace extreme Islam, Kasim — who was born in Britain — didn’t come from a deprived area or a poor family. His parents were middle-class Pakistanis. Kasim rebelled, dated girls, went clubbing, drank alcohol and smoked cannabis — but never told his parents. Had they known, they would probably have placed him under curfew.

Nonetheless, he was essentially a typical British teenager — until 9/11 changed everything. “It was the catalyst. It gave me the hunger to learn more about Islam,” he says. His journey to jihad began with sampling different mosques in search of the “peacefulness” he believed would guarantee his path to paradise. “I realised that there were 73 different sects in Islam — only one was going to paradise and the rest were going to hellfire.”

Kasim wanted the right ticket. He found what he was looking for at a Saudi Wahhabi mosque, and as a result fell under the influence of the charismatic extremist preacher Sheikh Abdullah al-Faisal and spent hours listening to tapes of his sermons. Faisal’s message was not lost on Kasim. He became fascinated by the notion of martyrdom.

The London bombings of 7/7 made him even more pro-jihad. “Afterwards there was so much negative publicity about Muslims. If everyone is attacking you, you become stronger and you probably do things you wouldn’t think of doing before.”

He decided he had had enough of living in the UK and wanted to move to a Muslim country. “I was engrossed in my faith and wanted to bring up my kids in an environment where they were more influenced by Islam than the normal life of British teenagers.”

But Faisal’s message of martyrdom burnt inside him. He says that “by chance” he met someone who offered him safe passage to the tribal areas of Pakistan. He told his wife and children he was off on a business trip and wasn’t sure when he would be back.

His contact was true to his word: Kasim was introduced to a group of Pakistani jihadists. “They were all active. They would cross the border regularly and carry out attacks,” he says.

During discussions about jihad with his new friends, he was surprised to find that their views went way beyond those he was forming himself. “My philosophy was to fight what I believed jihad meant — against those who were invading the Muslim land.” They had greater ambitions. “Their ultimate goal was to take over Pakistan and other Muslim countries and establish an Islamic caliphate. Afghanistan was the beginning of their long-term plan.”

Then one night, the house where he was staying was hit by a missile from a US drone. “The house had collapsed. When I opened my eyes, there was blood everywhere.”

Around a dozen jihadists were killed. Covered in blood, Kasim was taken to a hospital where he spent months recovering from his injuries. He missed his family. And he now had plenty of time to think about jihad.

Word of a British jihadist in hospital got out to Arab Al-Qaeda leaders in Waziristan. He was told they would like to meet him, so on his discharge he went north. They told him they didn’t need volunteers to fight in Afghanistan as they had plenty and said he should team up with other “foreigners” who were in the area and carry out operations in Britain and Europe. Kasim assumed the “foreigners” were British.

This wasn’t the kind of jihad Kasim had in mind and he said so. “I felt it was the wrong thing to do morally and religiously. Killing women and children was against the principles of Islam.” He was told to stay and spend some time thinking about it. He did and the answer was still a nervous “no”.

At this stage you might have expected Kasim to get a bullet in his head, but he didn’t. Al-Qaeda let him go home, perhaps thinking he might be useful further down the line.

At first I thought this was unlikely but then remembered that the IRA often let its members leave. Kasim decided that despite all he had thought about living in England, it was preferable to living in a Muslim country.

He now realises he took the wrong path. His story shows de-radicalisation is possible, although not every jihadist has the wake-up call of a missile to prompt it. “I’ve now changed my views about Islam. I got influenced by the wrong people.”

I ask Kasim if he thinks he will now go to paradise. “I hope so,” he says.

The final episode of Peter Taylor’s series, Generation Jihad, will be shown on BBC2 tomorrow at 9pm