By NASA

Mapping Human Impacts in a New Era: Liminal Warfare’s Distinct Impact on Human Security

Editor’s Note: This article is a research contribution from Giana Romo Bastidas, Research Fellow and Intern at Rise to Peace. It explores the shifting landscape of modern conflict, contrasting conventional and liminal (hybrid) warfare, and examines their divergent impacts on human security. The piece is academic in scope and includes references for further reading. We at Rise to Peace encourage readers to consider how these evolving forms of warfare complicate the boundaries of conflict and security in the 21st century.

Executive Summary
The nature of war in the 21st century is shifting from conventional, state-on-state conflict to ambiguous, hybrid, and liminal forms of confrontation. Liminal warfare, operating in the “gray zone” between peace and war, leverages non-military tactics (cyberattacks, disinformation, economic coercion) to undermine security in ways that are often invisible and difficult to attribute. While conventional warfare’s impact on human security is overt, kinetic, and triggers organized humanitarian responses, liminal warfare erodes economic stability, societal cohesion, and political integrity, often below the threshold of traditional response mechanisms. Humanitarian and legal frameworks designed for conventional conflict struggle to address the chronic insecurity and ambiguity produced by liminal warfare. The article calls for new, adaptive, human-centric frameworks to address the complexities and persistent threats posed by this evolving landscape of conflict.


Liminal Warfare and Human Security: Rethinking the Impact of Modern Conflict


The character of conflict in the 21st century has undergone significant changes, moving from the traditional model of state-on-state warfare toward more fragmented, ambiguous, and non-linear forms or confrontation. While war has always changed its form and appearances, recent discussions highlight the hybridization of warfare (Mälksoo,2018), which involves the increasing interconnection of military, information, and cyber means of confrontation (Eberle & Daniel, 2023). This shift includes concepts like asymmetric warfare, counterinsurgency, and cyber warfare, and involves the strategic use of non-violent means. This transformation has profoundly blurred the lines between war and non-war. Traditionally, conventional warfare understands security in terms of individual states, focusing on the protection of the state’s sovereignty and territorial integrity from external military threats. It is defined by the military capabilities used against invading armies and involves combat operations carried out by organized armed forces, often through physical violence and destruction. The general impact of conventional warfare on human security, while focused on state survival, historically included devastating civilian suffering and loss life, as seen in the catastrophic scope of conflicts like world war I and II.

In contrast, liminal warfare, often discussed alongside or as part of hybrid warfare, refers to conflict that occurs “in-between” space or zone of uncertainty between established states of war and peace. The concept of liminality, originating in anthropology, describes an “interstructural position” of being stuck “betwixt and between” recognized structures and categories, characterized by uncertainty and ambiguity (Mälksoo, 2018). In the context of conflict, this means it is difficult to clearly establish if one is in a state of war or peace. A contemporary example of this change is the Russian annexation of Crimea in 2014, which involved the use of “little polite green men” alongside information and cyber means. Illustrating the increasing hybrization of warfare (Eberle & Daniel, 2023). This event, along with Russia’s ongoing military involvement in Ukraine, illuminates this shift. Hybrid warfare, particularly as a discourse, operates by extending the logic of war into wider areas, such as, social life, blurring the distinction between peacetime and conflict. It can often be described as undeclared, insidious and even invisible, happening here and now without clear delimitations or battlefields.

This essay argues that while conventional warfare primarily impacts human security overtly through state-centric kinetic violence, leading to direct physical harm and large-scale destruction, liminal or hybrid warfare operates differently. Characterized by its inherent ambiguity and use of non-military means in the in between space of war and peace, it insidiously targets broader dimensions of human security, including economic stability, societal cohesion, and political integrity.  

Human security is a concept that gained significant traction in the post-Cold War era, fundamentally reorients the focus of security studies from the state to the individual. Traditional security paradigms tend to center the state, while human security seeks to protect ‘the vital core of all human lives in ways that enhance human freedoms and human fulfillment’ (Liotta & Owen, 2006). It advocates for the protection of people from a broad spectrum of threats, encompassing not only “freedom from fear” but also “freedom from want” (Acharya et al, 2006). This expansive understanding recognizes that security extends beyond traditional military concepts to include economic, food, health, environmental, personal, community and political dimensions. Conventional warfare, in stark contrast, traditionally understands security in terms of individual states, primarily focusing on the protection of the state’s sovereignty and territorial integrity form external military threats. It is defined by military capabilities used against invading armies and involves combat operations carried out by organized armed forces, characterized by physical violence and direct destruction (Sari, 2023). The primary impact of conventional warfare on human security, while often framed around state survival, historically entails devastating civilian suffering and loss of life, as evidenced by the catastrophic scope of conflicts like World war I and II (Sari, 2023). The overt and violent nature of such conflicts often leads to severe physical harm, mass displacement, and the extensive destruction of vital infrastructure. This creates “security vulnerabilities and challenges in the context of forced migration” and triggers large-scale humanitarian crises, though these are typically understood in conventional terms (Rowa, 2023).

Liminal warfare, often discussed interchangeably with “hybrid warfare” or “gray zone conflict” fundamentally operates in a space that is “in-between the traditional duality of war and peace” (Eberle & Daniel, 2023). This concept draws heavily from the anthropological notion of “liminality”, originally articulated by French ethnographer and folklorist Arnold van Gennep and further developed by cultural anthropologist Victor Turner. Liminality refers to an “interstructural position” (Mälksoo, 2018) of being “betwixt and between” established structures and categories, characterized by inherent “uncertainty and ambiguity”. Liminal entities are ambiguous they elude or slip through the classifications that normally locate states and positions in cultural space (Mälksoo, 2018).

Scholars like Maria Mälksoo have adapted this concept to international relations, employing it to analyze “the politics of the transitional” and highlights its “theoretical and empirical mileage “in understanding large-scale shifts in global affairs. Similarly, Hazel Andrews and Les Roberts demonstrate liminality’s application to geographical spaces, underscoring its manifestation in various spatial and experiential domains. In the context of conflict, this ambiguity is a critical aspect, making it difficult to clearly establish if one is in state of war or peace (Eberle & Daniel, 2023), and hostile actors deliberately generate ambiguity to obscure what is happening and mask the differentiation between war and peace. The defining features of liminal warfare include its inherent ambiguity and uncertainty, a lack of formal declarations, and an extensive reliance on non-military tactics, particularly in the information sphere. This form of conflict blurs the lines between state of war and non-war (Eberle & Daniel, 2023), operating below the threshold of conventional war while pursuing strategic objectives. Core tactics often associated with this liminal space encompass cyberattacks, disinformation and propaganda, economic coercion, and political subversion, all contributing to a conflict environment that is undeclared without clear battlefields (Eberle & Daniel, 2023).

The impact of warfare on human security diverges significantly when comparing conventional and liminal approaches, particularly concerning physical and economic security. In conventional warfare, physical security is directly and overtly threatened. It involves primarily through direct violence, combat, deaths, physical injuries, and the destruction of infrastructure (Sari, 2023). Its immediate physicality, though devastating, often prompts organized humanitarian responses. In contrast, liminal warfare causes physical insecurity through indirect and systemic means. Cyberattacks on hospitals, power grids or transportation systems can disrupt essential services, delay medical treatment, and indirectly cause fatalities (Eberle & Daniel, 2023). Moreover, coordinated disinformation campaigns can incite social unrest and violence, contributing to civilian insecurity without clear perpetrators.

Economically, conventional wars destroy physical capital, disrupt production chains, and cause inflation and unemployment in conflict zones. Liminal warfare, however, strategically undermines economic security without kinetic force. It employs tools such as sanctions evasion, intellectual property theft, and currency manipulation to erode the economic stability of target states (Eberle & Daniel, 2023). These tactics, often difficult to attribute, result in prolonged poverty, stagnation and public distrust in financial institutions. The threatening nature of such aggression means populations may experience economic collapse without ever recognizing the mechanisms of warfare acting upon them.

In some contexts, conventional warfare may paradoxically strengthen social cohesion as communities rally against a visible external enemy. However, liminal warfare deliberately targets the internal bonds that maintain societal unity. By leveraging propaganda, deepfake technology, and algorithm-driven misinformation, it sows distrust between citizens and their governments, polarizes electorates, and exacerbates social fragmentation (Pendaroski, 2015). The outcome is a state of chronic insecurity where fear is not caused by bombs but by the erosion of shared truths and mutual trust. Similarly, political stability suffers differently. While conventional wars may involve direct regime change or military coups, liminal tactics destabilize political systems more subtly; from within. Interference in electoral processes, the funding of extremist political parties, and the erosion of public confidence in democratic institutions have all become common features of liminal conflict (Eberle & Daniel, 2023). The absence of overt aggression allows these actions to occur below the threshold of international response mechanisms, creating enduring political uncertainty and weakening state governance capacities.

Conventional warfare often generates visible and traceable humanitarian crises, mass displacement, infrastructure collapse, and widespread human suffering. These outcomes typically activate international mechanisms such as the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), the international Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), and formal humanitarian corridors, providing structured responses to protect civilians (Rowa, 2023). Legal instruments such as the Geneva Conventions are designed for such scenarios, enabling clear, accountability and coordination.

Liminal Warfare, by contrast, presents unique challenges to humanitarian systems. The weaponization of migration; whereby displaced populations are used as tools to exert pressure on adversaries. Rowa (2023), highlights how securitization processes embedded within protection regimes often fail to address these ambiguous crises. Refugees caught in liminal conflicts frequently fall outside conventional frameworks of protection, facing prolonged uncertainty and neglect. States may intentionally facilitate refugee flows to destabilize neighboring countries or overwhelm asylum systems, intensifying vulnerabilities. Moreover, attribution in liminal warfare is profoundly difficult. Without clear perpetrators or legal thresholds for conflict, holding actors accountable becomes a challenge. This undermines international justice mechanisms and delays or prevents the activation of protective responses. As such, liminal warfare not only destabilizes regions but also exploits and erodes the very systems designed to protect vulnerable populations in times of crisis.

Liminal warfare presents a fundamentally distinct threat to human security when compared to conventional warfare. While traditional conflicts inflict immediate and visible harm (mobilizing structured humanitarian and legal responses) liminal warfare operates in the shadows, targeting the economic foundations, societal cohesion, and political integrity of its victims through prolonged ambiguity and non-kinetic strategies. These indirect methods produce chronic insecurity, erode public trust, and complicated international response mechanisms. As this essay has shown, the multifaceted and often invisible nature of liminal conflict demands a reevaluation of security paradigms and shift toward more adaptive, human-centric approaches. The pervasive “chronic insecurity” fostered by this form of conflict, a state of perpetual anxiety rather than acute trauma, demands a fundamental re-evaluation of how security is conceptualized and addressed. Ultimately, effectively navigating the complexities of contemporary global insecurity necessitates developing new analytical frameworks and response strategies that account for the pervasive, multi-dimensional, and often invisible threats posed by liminal warfare.

References:

Acharya, A., 2001. Human Security: East versus West. International Journal, 56(3), pp.442–460.

Andrews, H. and Roberts, L. eds., 2012. Liminal Landscapes: Travel, Experience and Spaces In-between. London: Routledge.

Eberle, J. and Daniel, J., 2023. Politics of Hybrid Warfare: The Remaking of Security in Czechia after 2014. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan.

Liotta, P.H. and Owen, T., 2006. Why Human Security? Whitehead Journal of Diplomacy and International Relations, 7(1), pp.37–54.

Mälksoo, M., 2012. Liminality and the Politics of the Transitional. In: Wydra, H. ed. Handbook of Political Anthropology. Cheltenham: Edward Elgar, pp.145–162.

Pendaroski, M., 2015. Personal Security in Times of Globalisation – A Perceptive Illusion or a Struggle for Self-Actualization. In: Đorđević, I., Glamotchak, M., Stanarević, S. and Gačić, J. eds. Twenty Years of Human Security: Theoretical Foundations and Practical Applications. Belgrade: Faculty of Security Studies, University of Belgrade, pp.79–94.

Rowa, Y.J., 2023. Refugee Protection, Securitization, and Liminality. Oxford Research Encyclopedia of International Studies. [online] Available at: https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780190846626.013.715 [Accessed 26 May 2025].

Sari, A., 2023. Warfare Between Metaphor and Reality: Legal Challenges of Hybrid Conflict. University of St. Thomas Journal of Law and Public Policy, 16(2), pp.594–679.

Turner, V., 1969. The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure. Chicago: Aldine Publishing.

Van Gennep, A., 1909. The Rites of Passage. Paris: Émile Nourry.

Shopping for Identity: The Ideological Incoherence of the Palm Springs Suicide Bomber

Yesterday morning, on the 18th of May, the world awoke to news of yet another act of directed violence. In Palm Springs, a suicide bomber targeted a fertility clinic. The attacker himself was the only fatality, though several others were injured, and neither were the IVF tubes and stored eggs damaged.

This was an attack that, at first glance, seemed unmoored from the recognizable patterns of modern terrorism. There was no manifesto signed by a well-known extremist group, no invocation of a nationalist or religious cause, nor even the faintest echo of those familiar dogmas that once animated the lone-wolf terrorist. Instead, what emerged was a bewildering “FAQ” page, posted online and paired with a live-streamed recording of the attack itself. Here, in plain, affectless language, the perpetrator offered up a word-salad of ideology: radical veganism, anti-natalism, negative utilitarianism, pro-mortalism, abolitionist anarchism, antinatalism, and a militant, almost parodic atheism. The list goes on.

What sense are we to make of this ideological jumble? What does it mean when the violence of the age comes not dressed in the colors of a recognizable banner, but in the patchwork of borrowed slogans, philosophical fragments, and internet subcultures?

This is not merely the story of one individual’s descent into violence. It is symptomatic of a structural transformation in the spirit of terrorism itself, where a collapse of grand ideological narratives and their replacement by an unstable bricolage has been assembled from the debris of the internet’s endless marketplace of identity and meaning.

The Online Bricolage: Shopping for Identity

The perpetrator of the Palm Springs attack, 25-year-old Guy Edward Bartkus, was, in many ways, a digital everyman. Their manifesto, if it can be called that, reads less like the political declarations of yesterday’s radicals than the notes of a terminally online user searching, desperately, for a sense of ontological anchoring. In a series of FAQs, which won’t be linked here due to the sensitivities around linking terrorist manifestos, he describes himself as a “promortalist” – a label so esoteric that its explanation requires several hyperlinks and a backup YouTube channel in case the original is taken down. He rails against procreation, the “disease of life,” and invokes negative utilitarianism: a philosophical stance that seeks to minimize suffering even at the cost of extinguishing sentient life itself.

But there is no program here, no positive vision of the future, no collective struggle to be waged. There isn’t even a group upon which to make of himself a martyr for the cause. Instead, the logic of the attack is both hyper-individual and terminally abstract; a move to end suffering by ending the sufferer, and to make a spectacle of annihilation not for glory, but for the dissemination of a set of viral ideas.

In the flurry of online commentary that followed, users dissected his influences: veganism, antinatalism, anti-sexuality, abolitionist anarchism and depressive nihilism. Each school is a world unto itself, yet the perpetrator stitches them together as one might assemble a playlist: “a subreddit for antinatalists and vegan abolitionists,” “a support group for vegans struggling with the trance-like collusion with a dystopian world,” “a forum for antinatalists who also endorse negative utilitarianism.”

One is struck not by the logic but by the sheer multiplicity of reference points, but rather its desperate attempt to construct identity in a void.

From Coherent Movements to Stochastic Agents

For most of the twentieth century, terrorism made itself intelligible through frameworks of ideology: anarchism, fascism, ethno-nationalism, religious millenarianism. The violence, however abhorrent, was readable as the means to a political end. Even the lone wolf was a shadow cast by a larger collective; a product of radical milieus, underground cells, or ideological vanguards. The ‘Propaganda of the Deed’ , exalting political assassinations and bombings, aimed to create the “spirit of revolt” in the people by demonstrating the state was not omnipotent and by offering hope to the downtrodden, and also to expand support for anarchist movements as the state grew more repressive in its response. Terrorism had a language through which politics could be interpreted.

But as Joshua Citarella and others have argued, the internet has changed the conditions of radicalization. It has created new pipelines, new liminal spaces where ideological cross-contamination is not just possible but inevitable. The online actor is always one or two clicks away from a radically different worldview; the boundary between philosophies has dissolved into a swirling pool of hashtags, subreddits, Discord servers, and algorithmic suggestions. In this case, it bears investigating what kind of Discord pseudo-life Bartkus led, and if it contained aspects of what is now coming to be understood as a kind of ultra-modern cult, whereby the use of a specific Discord server creates a set of experiences that are not dissimilar to that of a cult.

What emerges here is not the coherent soldier of a movement, but a stochastic terrorist, an individual shaped by the logic of networks, whose motives are not intelligible through the usual typologies. The Palm Springs attacker is the perfect emblem of this transformation. His FAQ page is not a call to arms but a set of hyperlinks, each one a doorway to a digital subculture that bleeds into the next, each one an index of the platform’s endless “choose your own adventure” approach to ideology.

The logic of stochastic terrorism, as Citarella notes, is that of the “event” rather than the movement. It is unpredictable, non-linear, and marked by a jarring incoherence.

Blurred Boundaries

In his final answer to “what finally put you over the edge?”, the perpetrator does not mention politics, nor policy, but the suicide of a close friend. The story is intensely personal, marked by loss, isolation, and the sense of apocalypse. He confesses to never having related to someone so much, and speculates that if one died, the other would soon follow. The boundaries between personal grief, online subculture, and philosophical abstraction are blurred.

What is most telling is not the content of his ideology, but its shape: fractured, contradictory, and deeply liminal. This is not the act of a true believer, but of a subject for whom identity is endlessly shopped for, sampled, discarded, and then remixed, over and over, in the online market place of ideas. Each community offers a fleeting promise of meaning, and each, ultimately, fails to deliver.

The attack, then, is not merely an act of violence but a kind of anti-ritual: the attempt to inscribe oneself into history through negation, to become visible in a world where identity has become an endless act of self-curation.

The Age of Ideological Liquidity

What, finally, can be said of the Palm Springs suicide bomber? He is not the product of a single doctrine, but of the collapse of doctrine itself. In his manifesto, there are echoes of older forms – nihilism, anarchism and millenarian despair. But what dominates is the sense of wandering through a labyrinth of philosophical options, none of which can finally ground the self or provide a coherent cause.

This is the new face of stochastic terror: liminal, ideologically unstable, marked by an “aesthetic” of extremity rather than a logic of action. The attack on the fertility clinic is not simply an act of violence, but a symptom of the collapse of ideological boundaries in the digital age. It represents a world in which the terrorist, no less than the ordinary user, shops endlessly for a sense of meaning in a marketplace where every position is temporary, every commitment provisional, and every act of violence another attempt to break through the noise.

As we confront the challenges of the coming years, it is not enough to ask what these actors believe. We must ask how they come to believe at all, and what it means to be radicalized in a world where the only stable identity is that of the self searching, endlessly, for itself.

By Etienne Darcas, Counter-Terror Research Fellow and Media & Terror Program Lead, Rise to Peace

From Propaganda to Playbook: The Lasting Media Template of ISIS


Though the Islamic State, or ISIS, has long lost its territorial grip, the influence of its digital propaganda machine endures. At the height of its power, ISIS pioneered a sophisticated media strategy that transformed how terrorist organisations project influence, prioritising decentralisation, visual coherence, and emotional resonance to attract supporters and instil fear on a global scale. This communications model, while not unique to ISIS, has left a lasting imprint on the media operations of other jihadist movements. Recognising these patterns is not simply an exercise in retrospective analysis. As contemporary terrorist groups adopt similar techniques, understanding the architecture of ISIS’s media playbook offers a critical lens for identifying emerging threats. When narratives follow familiar contours, counterrorism efforts can respond not only to what is said, but to how and why it is said.

Platforms and Content

The Islamic State’s media strategy leveraged a range of platforms, including Telegram, X (previously Twitter), Facebook, YouTube, and TikTok. These platforms were crucial for spreading ISIS propaganda and recruiting new members, particularly among disenfranchised youth. Telegram, in particular, allowed ISIS to maintain encrypted communication and distribute a variety of content to its followers while evading censorship. TikTok, on the other hand, attracted a younger demographic, providing an avenue to disseminate short-form video that combined violent imagery with messages promoting martyrdom and jihad. An example of this can be seen in the case of L. Walby, a 19-year-old convert from Kent, UK, who posted ISIS propaganda videos on such platforms. According to the BBC, Walby, who had over 1.500 followers on TikTok and more than 10.000 likes on his posts, explained that he had ‘joined the trend’. This reflects a wider trend seen across social media where individuals, often younger, become part of an online subculture that glorifies extremism and terrorism. The videos Walby posted included graphic footage of combat scenes, executions, and martyrdom, aimed at normalising violence and encouraging others to embrace jihad.

Additionally, the Islamic State leveraged dedicated media outlets, such as Amaq News Agency and Al-Hayat Media Centre, to distribute its propaganda. These platforms produced high-quality content that reinforced ISIS’s ideological narrative. For instance, Amaq News Agency was central to ISIS’s communication strategy, offering real-time updates on operations and attacks, often glorifying these actions as part of a larger struggle against the West; while Dabiq was a digital magazine published in several languages, aimed at inspiring Muslim youth globally, urging them to join the caliphate. It presented a vision of a utopian Islamic state, promising a sense of belonging and purpose for those who joined. The strategic goal behind ISIS’s media framework has three key components: recruitment, intimidation, and legitimacy. The use of social media platforms was central to the group’s recruitment efforts, offering a sense of camaraderie and ideological purity to individuals who felt disconnected or marginalised. Intimidation was another key goal, These graphic materials were intended to instil fear and signal the group’s ruthless commitment to its cause. Finally, by producing highly polished, professional content in multiple languages and through diverse channels, ISIS sought to legitimise itself as the vanguard of a global Islamic struggle, rather than merely a terrorist group. This pattern is not isolated, and it highlights the potential for counterterrorism efforts to focus on identifying and disrupting the digital activities of such groups.

The Spread of a Template

The Islamic State’s digital blueprint has had a lasting impact well beyond its core territory, and its media strategy has served as a model for several jihadist groups operating in Syria, Afghanistan and parts of Africa. These groups have adapted and reinterpreted ISIS’s template to suit local contexts, but the core elements remain recognisable: strong branding, glorified portrayals of martyrdom, and the strategic use of social media to project legitimacy and reach a global audience. 

In northern Syria, Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) offers one of the clearest examples of aesthetic and narrative imitation. While distancing itself from ISIS ideologically, HTS has adopted similar media tactics to rebrand itself as a legitimate governing actor. Under the leadership of al-Jolani, the group has curated a public image centred on moderation and local governance. Its videos often show Jolani engaging with civilians, attending religious events, and meeting with local leaders; an imagery designed to soften perception and attract external legitimacy. This media campaign has included calculated outreach to Western audience, most notably through Jolani’s 2021 appearance on PBS Frontline. The visual polish and messaging coherence evoke the same media discipline pioneered by ISIS, albeit directed at different political ends.  

In contrast, Islamic State Khorasan Province (ISKP), in Afghanistan, has pushed the model further. Following the Taliban’s return to power, ISKP has doubled down on online propaganda, using AI tools to produce and disseminate multilingual content through its media arm, Al-Azaim Foundation. These efforts aim to radicalise, recruit, and assert the group’s ideological purity in contrast to its rivals. Similarly, Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM) in the Sahel has utilised media to bolster its narrative of religious legitimacy. Though seemly technologically less advanced, JNIM has borrowed from ISIS’s approach to visual propaganda, including footage of attacks and the imposition of conservative Islamic law in controlled areas.  

Lastly, Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP), born from Boko Haram’s allegiance to ISIS, has closely followed the ISIS model in both tone and technique. Between 2016 and 2020, it released over 100 videos, often showing executions, attacks, and hostage situations. ISWAP has also made use of platforms like Telegram, YouTube, X, and encrypted messaging apps to distribute content, echoing ISIS’s emphasis on platform diversification and digital security.

Digital Arms Race

As jihadist groups have grown more agile in their use of digital platforms, states, institutions, and technology companies have scrambled to catch up; often reacting rather than anticipating. In the European Union, new legislation mandates that internet platforms remove terrorist content within one hour of a removal order, while specialised bodies like the EU Internet Referral Unit and the Radicalisation Awareness Network work to identify extremist narratives and support member states in mitigation. In the US, the Global Engagement Centre (GEC) has adopted a more decentralised approach, collaborating with community actors, former extremists, and religious leaders to deliver counter-narratives and build resilience in targeted communities. In the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region, responses have largely followed a top-down securitised model, where state policies prioritise regime stability and ideological control. Here, counterterrorism strategies often blur the lines between legitimate dissent and violent extremism, creating a restrictive media environment that can inadvertently drive extremist narratives underground rather than dismantling them. Yet despite these developments, jihadist media strategies remain highly resilient. A constant cat-and-mouse dynamic characterises the digital battlefield: as content is removed from mainstream platforms, extremist groups shift to encrypted apps, decentralised networks, and cloud-based repositories. The adaptive use of language, hashtags, and platform migration techniques ensures that even as specific content is taken down, the propaganda architecture remains largely intact. Groups like ISKP and ISWAP not only pre-empt takedowns but often exploit the takedown process itself to frame narratives of persecution and legitimacy.

This enduring adaptability reveals a critical oversight in counterterrorism policy: the tendency to view jihadist propaganda as peripheral rather than central to insurgent strategy. The influence of ISIS’s model: high-impact visuals, multilingual messaging, and decentralised media production, remains visible across successor groups, even in regions with limited connectivity or state presence. This digital legacy matters precisely because it has become a strategic blueprint. Its methods are easily replicated, widely disseminated, and difficult to erase. Graphic content, algorithmic optimisation, and culturally tailored messaging can be deployed by both major organisations and lone actors, allowing terrorist ideology to persist and mutate even in the absence of territorial control. 

Ultimately, a reactive approach to extremist content moderation is no longer sufficient. What is needed is a proactive, systemic understanding of jihadist media strategy; one that anticipates its evolution, counters its appeal, and treats the information space not as an auxiliary front, but as a core battleground in contemporary terrorism. 

Charlotte Soulé, Rise to Peace Contributor and Masters of International War Studies student at University College Dublin


The Liminal Agent: A New Model of Online Radicalisation?

In his recent essay, online extremism researcher Joshua Citarella sketches one of the new psycho-political cartographies of our time: a theory of how the internet no longer merely hosts extremism but actively incubates, mutates, and weaponizes it. His model of online radicalisation, one that emerges from self-directed isolation, deep cognitive immersion, and ideological bricolage, resonates profoundly with what Rise to Peace has identified as the domain of Liminal Warfare: the weaponization of thresholds, ambiguity, and incomplete identity in modern conflict spaces.

Increasingly, the traditional models of threat assessment borne from old threat matrix’s which privilege hierarchical organizations, clear ideological movements, and structured recruitment are inadequate to describe the contemporary threat landscape. In Citarella’s vision, the world of online radicalisation has irreparably changed. Radicalisation today is decentralized, asynchronous, memetic, and most importantly, liminal. It primarily happens in the unstable interzones between identity, ideology, and action.

Citarella’s Model

Citarella proposes that radicalisation, at least in the West, often begins not from prior ideological conviction, but from the condition of existential boredom, social/economic alienation, and exploration. A young person, often socially isolated and politically disenchanted, stumbles into online subcultures while seeking meaning, excitement, or community. They begin to scroll; into gaming forums, irony-poisoned meme pages, “political compass” esoterica, survivalist groups, and ideological echo chambers.

What matters is not a coherent doctrine, but the immersive ritual of searching itself. Platforms that favour algorithmic serendipity (TikTok, YouTube, Reddit) reinforce a pattern of escalating extremity, either through exposure to increasingly niche ideologies or by creating a pseudo-gamified environment where ideological commitment becomes performative currency. Politics becomes the hobby to end all hobbies. In this schema, most individuals never stabilize, instead drifting aimlessly and incoherently from one ideology to the next. They collage incompatible belief systems – eco-fascism one month, anarcho-primitivism the next, post-left accelerationism shortly after, creating an identity formation that is non-linear, recursive, and radically unstable. It is a process that could aptly be described as ‘liminal radicalisation’; the process of radicalisation itself is continuous and disaggregated, with no clear destination in mind.

The Political Economy of Alienation

What Joshua Citarella names as online radicalisation is, in fact, better understood as an emergent symptom of the wider economic decomposition and austerity that has driven radicalisation from the USA to Europe. Beneath the memetic ironies and aesthetic subcultures, beneath even the performative hatred, what one finds is a generation economically stranded and structurally abandoned. These are not natural ideologues – rather, they are young people who feel the burden of a collapsing horizon, where the prospect of an attainable middle-class life has disappeared as material circumstances decline.

In this sense, the online radicalisation pipeline is not ideological in its origins, but material. The typical subject is downwardly mobile, debt-strapped, and shut out of every traditional rite of social mobility: property, partnership, stability, meaning. Where civic institutions, societal inclusion and careers once were, they are confronted instead with deindustrialisation, economic alienation and precarity. Their beliefs are downstream from their estrangement. Liberal democracies, unable or unwilling to address the foundational material crises of our time in housing shortages, wage stagnation, job insecurity and the erosion of public life, have instead left a vacuum into which this new ecology has rushed. It is precisely this vacuum that provides such fertile ground for the blossoming of new, discordant political radicalisation amongst the disaffected online.

Radicalisation as Ritual, Not Recruitment

What Citarella outlines aligns precisely with what we at Rise to Peace conceptualize as the liminal domain of contemporary conflict. Liminality describes the in-between state: the adolescent undergoing a rite of passage, the refugee severed from homeland, the online user between algorithms and reality. In warfare, the liminal is where traditional rules of engagement dissolve, replaced by new architectures of influence, disorientation, and emotional capture. Crucially, Liminal Warfare weaponizes affect before ideology. It seeks to keep populations in a suspended state of insecurity, overstimulation, and yearning, thus rendering them perpetually vulnerable to new vectors of control, recruitment, or activation. Radicalization, under these conditions, is no longer a matter of persuasive argument or charismatic leadership, but rather the ambient result of prolonged cognitive dislocation.

The Liminal Agent

How can we position this new pipeline of online radicalisation?  Doing so requires designating a new actor in the matrix of terror and radicalisation: The Liminal Agent. These are individuals or small cells who do not adhere to conventional organizational structures, but whose radicalization journey makes them latent nodes of potential disruption.

They often exhibit the following features:

  • Non-linear ideological trajectories (far-right to eco-terrorism to esoteric nihilism within months).
  • Memetic accelerationism (using memes not merely as propaganda but as a form of psychological conditioning).
  • Fluid affiliations (no loyalty to any single group, cause, or doctrine).
  • Stochastic violence potential (low predictability of timing, targets, or methods).

Citarella’s model gives empirical substance to this theory. The emerging radical does not require recruitment, as they radicalize through participation. They do not need ideological discipline, as they need only the internet and its ideological input. This is a battlefield of perpetual pre-recruitment, where being “in play” is more important than belonging.

Implications for Counter-Radicalization

The classic counterterrorism model – disrupt leadership nodes, monitor recruitment pipelines, disrupt communication channels – struggles to address this reality. How do you intercept a process without a recruiter? How do you “deradicalize” someone who has never fully radicalized to begin with, but exists in a permanent state of cognitive threshold-crossing?

Such implications require three necessary shifts:

  1. Intervention at the Affective Level: Programs must target emotional needs (belonging, agency, recognition) rather than merely correcting disinformation or promoting tolerance.
  2. Narrative Counter-Liminality: Instead of offering fixed counter-narratives, interventions must provide adaptive narrative scaffolding; ways to help individuals navigate uncertainty without collapsing into extremism.
  3. Liminal Early Warning Systems: Indicators of drift (increased engagement with irony-laden extremist memes, withdrawal from non-digital communities, pattern acceleration) must be mapped and monitored, not just explicit pledges of allegiance.

This, however, represents only an intervention at the level of symptoms. The frameworks proposed here; narrative scaffolding, affective early warning systems, memetic analysis, can only help us insofar as they map the terrain of liminal radicalisation, but they cannot on their own treat its cause. What Citarella’s model ultimately reveals, and what we must refuse to obscure, is that online extremism today is less a question of ideology than of material infrastructure – social, economic, and psychological. It is not born from belief but from absence: the absence of economic security, of community, of a shared future. This absence collapses the very ideological architectures that once made radicalisation intelligible and coherent, and much more is required to be done and researched about this new pipeline of radicalisation that has emerged online if governments and civil society have any hope to limit the spread of its contagion.

Etienne Darcas, Counter-Terror Research Fellow and Media & Terror Program Lead, Rise to Peace

Tradwives with a New Voice: Reframing Femininity in a Polarized Digital Age.

The ‘Tradwife’ (traditional wife) movement in the United States operates as a digital phenomenon that promotes a return to conventional gender roles, where women embrace domesticity, submission to a male partner, and a homemaker lifestyle as empowering choices. In contrast, Afghan women face traditional roles enforced through legal and political structures. These two models of gender normativity illustrate how context transforms meaning. While American tradwives present their lifestyle as a revival of femininity, Afghan women live a reality of restricted agency, silenced discourse, and structural resistance. This comparison exposes key differences between performative and imposed domesticity.

The tradwife phenomenon fits squarely within the logic of liminal warfare; a form of modern terrorism that Rise to Peace is exploring and which relies not only on direct violence but on gray zones of information warfare, identity manipulation, and narrative control. When co-opted by far-right extremists, tradwife content becomes a digital vehicle for radicalization, as modern terrorism increasingly leverages aestheticized content and algorithmic exposure to draw individuals into ideologically extreme spaces. Tradwife influencers, especially those aligned with alt-right ideologies, repurposing everyday imagery as a subtle vehicle for radicalization.

Reclaiming Choice or Reinforcing Hierarchy?

American tradwives often frame domestic roles as a form of empowerment and resistance to feminism. Deem (2023) notes that many in this movement adopt the label “feminine, not feminist,” positioning themselves in opposition to gender equality discourse. Llanera (2023) argues that this framing aligns with alt-right ideologies that use idealized femininity to reinforce patriarchal structures.

In Afghanistan, gender roles are not a matter of personal identity but the result of coercive state control. Since the return of Taliban rule, multiple international bodies, such as Human Rights Watch and UN Women, have issued alerts highlighting the institutionalized oppression of Afghan women, ranging from bans on education to exclusion from public life. These reports illustrate how domesticity becomes a condition of survival, not a personal or ideological stance.

Social Media as a Battleground

Tradwife content spreads rapidly through algorithm-driven platforms like Instagram and TikTok. Bail et al. (2018) demonstrate that exposure to polarized views intensifies ideological divides, creating echo chambers that prevent people from being exposed to information that contradicts their pre-existing beliefs. Tradwife influencers benefit from this structure by distributing emotionally charged, aesthetically appealing content that builds loyal followings.

This mirrors the mechanics of liminal warfare. Terrorist movements now use soft-entry tactics, ranging from memes, nostalgia, and lifestyle aesthetics to lower cognitive defenses and normalize extremist ideologies. Tradwife narratives foster a sense of comfort and tradition while quietly pushing audiences toward radical worldviews.

Meanwhile, Afghan women are largely excluded from these digital arenas. Internet access remains limited and heavily monitored, especially for women and girls. The same platforms that enable Western women to craft their identities and project narratives are unavailable to those whose lives are tightly controlled by state power.

Radicalization vs. Silencing

Simpson (2024) found that the #tradwife trend shaped women’s political identities during a U.S. election year. What appears as an innocuous embrace of femininity often operates as an entry point to far-right ideology. Sitler-Elbel (2021) describes the pathway from “Swiffers to Swastikas” as deliberately structured through content ecosystems and influencer networks.

This pathway aligns with what Rise to Peace calls the new economy of terror, where ideology is consumed through clicks and shares. In this model, tradwife content becomes a vector for extremism masked in nostalgia and moral certainty. Afghan women, in contrast, face ideological control through state power, not social media. Their silencing is institutional and physical—not algorithmic. They do not choose submission; it is enforced.

Narcissism, Echo Chambers, and Violence

Marzochi and Balieiro (2021) describe the tradwife phenomenon as a product of political narcissism. Carefully curated content reinforces a feedback loop that isolates creators from criticism and sustains ideological rigidity.

In Afghanistan, the echo chamber is real but systemic. Gender segregation enforces physical and social separation, upheld by legal and religious codes. While Western women struggle with digital misrepresentation, Afghan women confront state-sanctioned erasure.

Feminist Resistance in Two Worlds

Some American tradwife influencers are attempting to distance themselves from regressive ideologies. Sykes and Hopner (2024) show how tradwife influencers mobilize domestic aesthetics and traditional femininity to subtly reinforce far-right ideologies, often without overt political messaging but still embedded within ethnonationalist values.

Afghan women resist under far more dangerous conditions. Many have built underground education networks, engaged in international advocacy, or organized in secrecy. Their goal is not to redefine femininity within neoliberal frameworks, but to reclaim basic rights and visibility.

Gender Roles as Tools in Liminal Warfare

The concept of the traditional wife cannot be separated from its political and technological context. In the United States, the tradwife identity is voluntary, aesthetic, and digitally enabled. In Afghanistan, it is a product of authoritarian control.

Yet both can function as instruments in liminal warfare. As the team at Rise to Peace has explained, extremist movements no longer rely solely on violence. They weaponize stories, visuals, and identities to push ideological agendas. Tradwife content when linked to far-right ideologies becomes a tool for this subtle but powerful form of radicalization.

Peacebuilding strategies must recognize how gender, culture, and digital ecosystems interact across borders. Empowerment narratives deserve scrutiny. In some cases, choice is real. In others, it is manufactured. And in many, it is absent entirely.

Ahmad Shah Mohibi, Founder and Director of Counterterrorism, Rise to Peace
Giana Romo B, Research Fellow at Rise to Peace