UK and Europe get tougher with Jihadi terror suspects

In the UK, and across Europe, questions are being asked about the approach to deradicalisation after the murderous attack by Abdul Ballout, a German of Lebanese descent, on a parade in Berlin on 25 July 2026.

One woman, a Polish national, was left dead and 29 others injured after 21-year-old Ballout drove a van into the annual Christopher Street Day parade and then continued his assault with a bladed weapon. He was later shot dead by police. Following the incident, it emerged that Ballout had tried to join the Islamic State in 2025, planning to go via Lebanon to Syria.

As recently as May this year, he was arrested again for “preparing a serious act of violence endangering the state”. His near two-year prison sentence was suspended while the prosecution appealed for a longer sentence. It was during this period of judicial limbo, supervised by a probation officer, that Ballout committed murder on the streets of Berlin.

The court ordered Ballout to attend a state-funded deradicalisation program, run by the civil society organisation, the Violence Prevention Network (VPN). It has successfully processed nearly 500 individuals at risk of committing a terrorist offence. Some of them already in prison while others have yet to fall into the criminal justice system but have come to the attention of law enforcement or the intelligence services.

VPN spokesperson Cornelia Lotthammer talked this week to The Beiruter and explained what happened with Ballout. Since the atrocity, VPN has come under sustained criticism from some politicians and on social media with, Lotthammer argues, a great deal of disinformation being spread.

“We have worked with 490 clients who are very dangerous. In one case we did not succeed. He was at the very beginning of the process. But with 489 other individuals, we stopped them committing a serious crime afterwards. Counter-radicalisation programs have spared us a lot of attacks, and we must continue to do this work.”

There are those who are sceptical of counterterrorism being conducted through community-based civil society organisations. On the one hand, hawkish voices argue that anybody suspected of terrorist activity should be fast-tracked into prison where they should endure the harshest conditions.

Meanwhile, certain Islamist groups have made life difficult for civil society groups operating in this area, characterising them as collaborators with the state or enemies of Islam. Even though these programs can stop individuals going on to become terrorist offenders, and serve long prison sentences, Islamists have claimed that the Prevent strategy in the UK, as an example, turns schoolteachers into informers, securitises life for Muslims, and seeks to impose a government approved version of Islam.

Lotthammer responds to the prison-focused hawks: “If you lock people up and throw away the key, how do they come out of prison, with what kind of mindset? You must work with them in prison. This has been the core of our work for 20 years. No better way to get to people than when they are in prison. Once they are outside, you want them to be nice people.”

Civil society programs came under intense scrutiny in the United Kingdom after 29 November 2019 when Usman Khan, a previously imprisoned terrorist affiliated to Al Qaeda, stabbed to death two organisers of a Learning Together group workshop near London Bridge. In 2012, Khan had been sentenced to life in prison for plotting to bomb the London Stock Exchange, but this was reduced on appeal, and he was released in time to commit the 2019 atrocity, having convinced his handlers that he was a reformed character.

Lessons have been learned by civil society since that attack and Lotthammer says that Ballout was already viewed as a high risk by VPN before his subsequent actions:

“There is an initial clearing process with all individuals that involves three meetings before starting the program. There had been two meetings with Ballout and a third was due where he would have been screened and evaluated. But after the first two meetings, we could see there was a problem with him. He was far too slick.”

She explains that most program attendees will make statements like “I can’t live in a democracy because I’m a Muslim” or “everybody is against us and we must fight”. That is strangely reassuring because it gives VPN an ideological framework to contest in the sessions.

“But he was very calm and said he had no problem with society, with religion, pretending not to see a problem or be a problem. That was the hint that he was beyond deradicalisation, because he was hiding something.”

VPN’s suspicions were proven shortly afterwards. Lotthammer admits that morale at her organisation has taken a battering since the attack.

“We are shocked and it is a tragedy. But we are now seeing a storm on X (formerly Twitter) where we are being blamed for the attack and there is a lot of disinformation going around claiming that he was already on the program or we tried to deradicalise him in three days and this is not true. We are being massively attacked and have needed to enforce security measures to protect us and the whole team.”

Civil society organisations are struggling to justify their work to increasingly sceptical lawmakers. Back in 2011, the UK saw civil society as a valuable tool that could work alongside harder-edged counterterrorism. But growing ISIS-inspired attacks from 2014 onwards put an enormous strain on civil society. Plus, public attitudes hardened.

Today, regardless of whether the government is from the political Left or Right, civil society is having to justify its role in countering radicalisation and individuals like Abdul Ballout are not helping the situation.