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This article is more than 1 year old

A young female recruit successfully impersonated a senior male Islamic State terrorist commander online to convince a young radicalised man to abandon his quest for jihad.

The covert operation by one of Canberra’s so-called “keyboard warriors”, described as a yoga-loving science graduate, was part of the Australian Signals Directorate’s broader efforts to fight Islamic State, which included the disruption of communications and the spread of propaganda.

Islamic State’s self-proclaimed “caliphate” was dismantled this month as a US-backed coalition of fighters drove militants out of their last stronghold of Baghuz, Syria.

While the role of the Australian military in airstrikes and training Iraqi soldiers has been reported, the Australian Signals Directorate has opened up for the first time about about the role of staff in Canberra.

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Its director general, Mike Burgess, revealed that despite misconceptions that his organisation was full of male tech geeks, he said his most experienced covert online operators were all women.

In a speech to the Lowy Institute, Burgess told how the graduate recruit turned covert operative used her online skills to track down a young radicalised man in an overseas remote location who was trying to join the fight.

“If the terrorists didn’t accept the newcomer, they would likely execute him. If they did accept him, they would further radicalise him and train him to kill. It was literally a matter of life and death,” Burgess said.

“Our operative typed in deliberately broken English and was so convincing she was able to influence the man’s behaviour.”

Her online persona was the inverse of her real one – different gender, age, culture and language. The young woman grew up in suburban Australia and enjoys yoga, hiking and touch football, Burgess said.

“One word or reference out of place and the whole thing could have fallen apart, potentially with grave consequences,” he said.

Backed by a team of linguists, cultural experts and behavioural experts, she was able to convince the aspiring terrorist to abandon his plan for jihad and move to another country where partner agencies could ensure he was no longer a danger to others or himself, Burgess said.

At the height of the fight against Islamic State, as coalition forces were preparing to attack a terrorist position, Australian offensive cyber operators were at their desks in Australia firing highly targeted bits and bytes into cyberspace, Burgess said.

“Communications were degraded within seconds,” he said. “Terrorist commanders couldn’t connect to the internet and they were unable to communicate with each other. Terrorists were in disarray and driven from the position, in part because of the young men and women at the keyboards some 11,000km or so away.”

Burgess hopes that lifting the shield of secrecy will help attract more creative and talented recruits to his organisation.

He said cyber operators look and act nothing like they do in the movies – some staff wear sharp suits, others military uniform and quite a few prefer “hoodies and jeans”.

“If you would like a licence to hack legally, keep a secret and want to make a difference, then ASD might have a job for you,” he said.