RIYADH
 For Saudi Arabia, the war against Syrian President Bashar 
al-Assad is a vital struggle for the future of the Middle East that must
 be fought — but not by its own young men.
 Alarmed by how jihadi 
veterans back home from Afghanistan and Iraq joined an Al Qaeda uprising
 a decade ago, Riyadh is now trying to halt recruitment of Saudis to the
 militant cause, even as it funds and arms rebels in Syria.
 The 
government and clerics are pushing their message in both the media and 
the mosque: Saudis who join radical groups such as the Islamic State 
will get sucked into a jihadist experience that is ugly and futile.
 Local media have highlighted the case of Fahd al-Zaidi, a Saudi who 
said he was duped into joining a war against fellow Sunni Muslims 
instead of fighting for their freedom.
  “Anyone who dared to 
question the IS would be put in isolation and prevented from contacting 
others,” he said in comments reported in the local Arab News and carried
 widely by other Saudi media. 
With the largely Sunni rebel groups
 often fighting each other rather than Assad’s forces, Riyadh believes 
the Syrian war should be left to Syrians. Those Saudis who shift their 
allegiance from the ruling Al Saud family to Islamic State’s caliphate, 
which it is fighting to establish across Syria and Iraq, represent a 
threat to the government of the US ally.
Informed by its previous experience, the kingdom is using an array of tools against jihadi recruitment apart from the media.
A
 royal decree in February ordered long jail terms for people who went to
 fight overseas or helped others do so, or for those giving moral or 
material aid to groups including IS  and Al Qaeda’s official offshoot in
 Syria, the Nusra Front. Several people have already been convicted.
Top
 clerics including the Grand Mufti and members of the Senior Council of 
Scholars, the highest religious bodies in the kingdom, have repeatedly 
denounced militant groups in sermons and fatwas. While some senior 
government-appointed clerics have described the Syrian war as a jihad, 
they have made clear it is one that should be fought by Syrians, not by 
Saudis.
Nevertheless, thousands of young men appear to have 
slipped through the net and joined IS  and other groups. The authorities
 say they are aware of 2,500 Saudis fighting overseas, but admit there 
may be more.
Unlike in previous conflicts before militants learnt 
to use social media networks as recruitment tools, would-be jihadis no 
longer need extensive contact with facilitators inside Saudi Arabia. 
Some have simply flown to Turkey and headed for the Syrian or Iraqi 
border. Others used online contacts to get a mobile phone number for 
somebody who would help them once they arrived.
Salman, whose 
brother followed the route via Turkey to fight alongside IS and Nusra 
Front in Syria, said his sibling had been recruited online. But the 
brother, who is now on a government deradicalisation programme, found 
the promises of a pure jihad did not match a far messier reality.
“His
 situation was very bad. He saw a lot of blood ... there was a very big 
change in him when he came back. He blamed himself very much,” Salman 
said in a phone interview arranged by a psychologist working with the 
programme and conducted on condition of anonymity.
Based in a 
secure facility in Riyadh, the programme uses clerics to argue against 
militancy, and provides art and sports classes where psychologists 
monitor inmates’ behaviour. It has a recidivism rate of around one in 
10, officials say.
Saudis
 went to previous jihadist wars mostly out of a sense of international 
Muslim solidarity which the authorities had fostered for decades as a 
counterweight to secular anti-monarchist ideology, say analysts.
In
 the 1980s it was the government and ruling family which encouraged 
Saudis to join the fight against Soviet forces occupying Afghanistan. 
But many clergy, particularly at a local level, were involved in 
recruitment.
The kingdom’s strict Wahhabi school of Islam, with 
its message of intolerance of members of other sects and non-Muslims, 
may also have made Saudis more open to militant thinking.
The 
US-led invasion of Iraq, which deposed the Sunni leadership of Saddam 
Hussein in 2003 and brought a Shia-led government to power, deepened a 
belief among many young Sunnis, including Saudis, that their branch of 
Islam faced persecution.
“I saw news on television that my brother
 Muslims needed help, so I thought I’d go and join them,” said Ayad 
al-Onazi, who spent four years fighting alongside Iraqi insurgents 
before his group fell apart after a battle with Al Qaeda.
Today, 
IS is countering pressure on its fighters to come home. In a recent 
video, it showed a young man identified as Abu Hajr al-Jazrawi who was 
about to become a suicide bomber. Jazrawi tried to tell his parents that
 they were wrong to want him back.
Not all Saudi families have 
been upset to see loved ones risk death. Some publicly celebrated their 
sons’  “martyrdom” a decade ago, said Thomas Hegghammer, author of the 
book Jihad in Saudi Arabia.  “Their friends would post phone numbers for
 people to call and congratulate,” he said.
Such displays no 
longer occur, but it is unclear whether this is because public attitudes
 have changed or Saudis are simply frightened of the security services. 
Nevertheless, the government campaign has clearly driven much of the 
recruitment effort further underground, making it harder to assess who 
is going to Syria and Iraq and why.
“There’s so much less 
visibility now into the jihadi community. They don’t write as much about
 themselves as they used to. Activists in Saudi Arabia are more 
restrained now online than they used to be,” said Hegghammer.
In
 August people in the small desert town of Tumair, about 160 km (100 
miles) north of Riyadh, tipped off the authorities that two mosque imams
 were recruiting jihadis.
The clerics were detained with six 
others in Tumair on suspicion of working to send people to IS, the 
Interior Ministry later said without confirming their names.
This 
showed both how local religious networks can still pose a threat, and 
how Saudi society is growing less tolerant of such efforts. But in a 
sign of how sensitive such subjects are, no Tumair residents contacted 
by Reuters would discuss the case.
Ali al-Afnan, the psychologist 
working with the deradicalisation programme, said family ties were at 
the centre of its strategy to stop people going to war or entice back 
those who had already done so.
What authorities now fear most, he 
said, is the ease with which militants can use YouTube and Twitter to 
encourage young men to go to Syria or Iraq. This is a problem they share
 with other Arab governments, as well as Western countries which are 
also trying to discourage their citizens from joining jihad.
Riyadh
 has helped mothers of fighters in Syria to share their pain on 
television. In February a woman who called herself  “Umm Mohammed” or  
“mother of Mohammed” appeared on a popular television to castigate 
firebrand preachers for luring her 17-year-old son to Syria.
The 
show’s host, Dawood Al Shirian, told Reuters that the government had 
been very receptive to his efforts to speak to such people and the son, 
Misfer, had eventually returned home after seeing his mother’s appeal.
Misfer
 later appeared on the programme himself and said on it that he had 
decided to join the jihad after listening to sermons online by an 
influential Syrian preacher, the Saudi-controlled al-Arabiya news 
channel reported at the time.
He travelled to Turkey alone and 
paid a smuggler to help him cross the border, but he grew disillusioned 
because some of the rebels in his group drank alcohol, he said.
 
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