They left in small groups, through the narrow lanes of the city, on to the ferry across the glassy blue sea and then, past the tourists waiting for connections to luxury resorts, to the airport. Their ultimate destination: Syria, and the “caliphate” of Islamic State.

The Maldives is better known for luxury tourism than Islamic militancy. But in recent weeks there has been a surge in departures of young men for Syria, raising fears of a growing threat both to the million-plus tourists who visit its 1,200 atolls each year and to countries such as the UK that do not require visas from citizens of the island.

“There are serious concerns,” said one western diplomat in the region. “The risk is either of an attack locally or someone coming to Europe or even going on to the US.”



Four people have been stopped by authorities. But between 50 and 100 from the country of 300,000 have joined “the jihad”. Analysts say the emergence of al-Qaida affiliate al-Nusra Front and Isis in Syria has catalysed an existing problem, giving it new dimensions and urgency.

“It had a really big impact. It made [jihad] popular and appealing in some ways,” said Azra Naseem, a researcher at Dublin City University, who is from the Maldives and specialises in radicalisation.

Since the first departures of Maldivians to Syria were reported in October 2013, five men from the country have been killed there.



The Maldives capital, Malé where social problems and gang crime are believed to have contributed to the radicalisation of young men. Photograph: Reinhard Krause/Reuters

Though some of those travelling to Syria have come from poor fishing communities on outlying islands, most of the recent departures are from Malé, the capital. Last month almost a dozen left a neighbourhood where a combination of radical preaching, organised crime and social problems have created a toxic mix.

At least 100,000 people cram into Malé’s one square mile of land mass. The city, surrounded by ocean, has experienced gang violence since campaigning started for democratic elections in the Maldives in 2008. These ended 30 years of autocratic rule by Mamoun Abdul Gayoom but brought political instability and fierce competition for power.

“The politicians need us to intimidate opponents or stop rallies, or stop other gangs stopping their rallies. Almost all the gangs are connected to political figures in one way or another,” explained Ibrahim “Chica” Nafeez, the 34-year-old leader of the well-known Buru gang, which runs one neighbourhood in Malé.



The World Bank has blamed the ease with which the gangs recruited young Maldivians [pdf] on “inactivity and apathy, unemployment, drug use and “the need for young men to prove their masculinity”.

Such factors have also been seen as encouraging radicalisation elsewhere, with repeated examples of the worlds of gangs and extremists overlapping. Omar Abdel Hamid el-Hussein, the 22-year-old who shot dead two people in Copenhagen, was involved with local criminal organisations, police said.

In recent years, a string of attacks on so-called secular activists in the Maldives have been blamed on radicalised gang members. One blogger was badly injured in 2012 and a moderate cleric and parliamentarian stabbed to death outside his home. Gang members last year threatened local activists who ran blogs and Facebook pages calling for tolerance for homosexuals, and in August Rilwan Ahmed Abdulla, a journalist and blogger, was abducted and has not been seen since.

“Ahmed’s abduction was related to this radicalisation of the gangs. He was exposing and angering them. First they threatened him, then they disappeared him,” said Rilwan Moosa, brother of the journalist.

More than a dozen members of the Kuda Henveiru gang, named after the neighbourhood where it is based, are reported to have left for Syria last month. Among them are two men detained in connection with the abduction of Rilwan. Others who travelled in January have a range of charges outstanding against them or have previous convictions for trafficking, assault and murder. At least one has also been linked to the murder of the cleric in 2012, though never charged.

The story of the gang is an example of the effect the Isis caliphate and the war in Syria has had thousands of miles away, intersecting with local conditions and small group dynamics to reinforce a resurgence of extremism across the Muslim world.

Family members of one man who travelled in January said he had been told by local preachers that it “was better to die in God’s way than to go to prison in the Maldives”. The 26-year-old had previously been detained for offences relating to drugs and violence. “He was spending a lot of time with the [Kuda Henveiru] gang,” said a relative, who requested anonymity. “Then, after becoming religious a year or so ago, he was a really good boy, working hard and not misbehaving. But he kept saying how the Maldives was not a land for Muslims and was talking about going to paradise.”

A cousin of the man is also believed to have travelled to Syria, leaving behind an 84-page booklet called “the blessings of jihad”. Distributed outside a mosque in recent weeks, it argues that young people do not need the authority of a cleric, sovereign or their parents to go to fight, as traditional theology maintains.



A key factor in the radicalisation of the gang appears to have been the imprisonment of two leaders in 2012. Hafez, the head of the rival Buru gang, said criminals often became radicalised in jail. “There is nothing to do. You think about your life. The only thing to read is the Qur’an or religious literature. There are also lots of older militants and young guys look up to them,” he said.

Muslims attend Friday prayers in Malé. Most Muslims in the Maldives still hold to moderate traditions. Photograph: Ishara S Kodikara/AFP/Getty Images

Extremists or serious criminals are not segregated from other prisoners in overcrowded Maldivian jails, officials confirmed. Most detainees are petty criminals and drug addicts. Again, there are parallels with cases elsewhere. Both Saïd Kouachi, responsible for the Charlie Hebdo attack in Paris in January, and the gunman in Copenhagen appear to have been radicalised to some extent in jail.

During the detention of their leaders, Kuda Henveiru splintered. On their release, one faction re-formed around the two newly religious men, with faith, rather than crime, at its centre.



“They didn’t do drugs or trafficking any more but kept fighting other gangs, like mine,” said Hafez, the rival leader.



Not all of those travelling to Syria from the Maldives are from tough urban backgrounds. In one case in November, a 27-year-old took his mother, wife and 10-year-old sister to Syria, after telling his father they were only going to a neighbouring island for medical treatment.

Ibrahim Ali said his son was a devout young man who had called the Maldives a “land of sin”, refused to pray with other villagers and had pressed his relatives into strict observance.

“He was radicalised through the internet and when he went to Malé to study, he spoke all the time about how Muslims were being treated, the importance of jihad and about living in a pure Islamic state,” said Ali, 46. “I have lost my whole family.”

Security analysts believe the focus on the gangs themselves may be misplaced and that the problem lies more with hardline community leaders and preachers who work behind the scenes to organise the harassment of the “secular” activists, and demonstrations such as one that took place in September in support of Isis. “They are the real key to the problem,” said a recently retired local security official.

Hundreds of protesters marched through central Malé in September bearing banners reading “Send democracy to hell” and “Islam will dominate the world”. Many carried the black flags of Isis and al-Nusra Front.



A sultanate for many centuries, though a British protectorate from 1887 until independence in 1965, the Maldives was then ruled by Gayoom, who encouraged “moderate” strands of Islam that bolstered his authority.

Since his fall in 2008, the country, like others in the Islamic world, has wrestled with key questions of religion, society and politics, and how the three can be reconciled in the aftermath of the fall of a dictatorial ruler.

As elsewhere, conservative strands of Islam have grown in recent decades, though most Maldivians remain loyal to moderate traditions. Some signs are obvious, such as greater attendance at mosques, more men growing beards as a sign of devotion, and more women forgoing traditional colourful dress and donning headscarves. Others, such as a growing intolerance, are less visible.

Many locals blame Gulf countries, particularly Saudi Arabia, which have poured massive amounts of money into construction of local mosques, colleges and study centres in the Maldives.

Others point to democratic reforms, which have also opened a space for activism by a range of NGOs, many also funded from the Gulf, and a more global narrative of Muslim identity.

“The Muslim ummah [world community] is like one body. If there is pain in one part, the rest should feel it. Those who have gone to fight are not extremists. They are just normal people who are more sensitive to images of suffering they see through the media,” said Shiraz Mustafa, a 30-year-old businessman in Malé who said eight of his friends had been killed “in the jihad” since 2001.

The question of the religious identity of Maldives has become heavily politicised. A fierce battle for power has pitted former president Mohamed Nasheed and his centre-left Maldivian Democratic party against a coalition including conservative parties that favour closer links with the Muslim world and more rigorous application of Islamic law.

Nasheed, an environmental and human rights activist recently arrested under an anti-terror law and accused of using the military to detain a senior judge during his time in office, described his departure from office in 2012 as a “religious coup”.

Ibrahim Muaz Ali, a government spokesman, said there was no threat to tourists in the Maldives.

“There are just a few cases [of radicalisation]. Even the UK is facing this problem and like any country we face it too. But some of the reports are very exaggerated,” he said.

Rilwan Moosa, the brother of the abducted journalist Ahmed, believes people in the west should pay more attention. “This place is more dangerous than they think. It is becoming highly radicalised. This is not a paradise on Earth any more,” he said.