U.S. Targets Radical Cleric Anwar al-Awlaki

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by Bobby Ghosh

Pity poor Yemen. Three armed conflicts are being fought in the nation that hugs the southwestern corner of the Arabian Peninsula: there is a separatist insurgency in the south and a fight between the mostly Sunni government forces and Shi'ite rebels in the north, while in the east, home of Osama bin Laden's ancestors, the local affiliate of his network is plotting to undermine the government of President Ali Abdullah Saleh.

So the average resident of Sana'a, Yemen's ancient capital, can be forgiven for regarding Anwar al-Awlaki as just another warmongering imam with a grudge against the West and a deep hatred for the U.S. In fact, until last fall, most Yemenis had never heard of the American-born cleric living in their midst. Those most familiar with him were a small group of Western counterterrorism officials and experts — and even they thought al-Awlaki was of relatively little consequence. (See Muslims encouraging debate, not hate.)

Not anymore they don't. In the past two months, al-Awlaki's anonymity has been replaced by the glare of U.S. government and media attention — and very likely the searching eyes of spy satellites. His connection to both the Nov. 5 massacre at Fort Hood, Texas, and the attempted Christmas Day bombing of a passenger jet over Detroit has persuaded the Obama Administration that al-Awlaki is a big-time bad guy. On Jan. 4, President Obama's top counterterrorism adviser, John Brennan, told CNN, "Al-Awlaki is a problem ... He's not just a cleric. He is in fact trying to instigate terrorism." (See pictures of Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab.)

The Administration is trying to be careful in its assessment of al-Awlaki. Officials recognize that in demonizing a jihadist, they may create a monster they cannot control as the U.S. seemingly did in 2003 when it identified Abu Mousab al-Zarqawi as the top al-Qaeda leader in Iraq at a time when he was little more than a relatively obscure Jordanian terrorist operating north of Baghdad. The notoriety was a bonanza for al-Zarqawi, as mujahedin streamed to join his group. As for al-Awlaki, "the best way to describe him is inspirational rather than operational," says a senior U.S. official. But, as this official points out, "the inspirational element is motivating people to take action. Where do you draw the line?"

Wherever the line between inspiration and operation is drawn, al-Awlaki seems to have come very close to crossing it. White House officials say e-mail exchanges with al-Awlaki may have spurred Major Nidal Malik Hasan to go on a rampage in Fort Hood, killing 13 people. And Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab, the failed Christmas Day bomber, reportedly told the FBI he had met with al-Awlaki in Yemen. Moreover, research into al-Awlaki's past has now revealed that he had been investigated by the FBI for his connections to al-Qaeda as long ago as 1999. He had met three of the 9/11 hijackers, and his sermons and speeches had turned up in the computers of the 2005 London bombers, terrorist plotters in Toronto in 2006 and the six men who planned an attack on Fort Dix, N.J., in 2007. (See the top 10 crime stories of 2009.)

Put all that together, and it explains why, even before the Christmas Day incident, al-Awlaki was of such interest to the U.S. government that it tried to kill him. On Dec. 24, the Yemeni military, pressed by the CIA, fired rockets into his home south of Sana'a. Al-Awlaki was not the principal target — the top leadership of al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP) was thought to be meeting there — but U.S. officials were hoping the strike would also take out the cleric. He wasn't home.

Made in the U.S.A.
So who is this man whom U.S. counterterrorism officials would like to see dead? Just like bin Laden, al-Awlaki comes from an influential family: one of his relatives is Prime Minister of Yemen, and his father Nasser al-Awlaki was Agriculture Minister and head of the country's biggest university. Like bin Laden, al-Awlaki is soft-spoken, mild-mannered and austere.

The parallels end there. Although bin Laden saw plenty of Western culture in his youth, he seems to have been profoundly uncomfortable with it. Not so al-Awlaki. Now 38, he has lived in the West for more than half his life, speaks fluent English and peppers his sermons with references to Western places and people. A recent lecture on death, for instance, was informed by an old Michael Jackson interview in which the singer said he wanted to "live forever." Hard to imagine bin Laden referring to the King of Pop in a sermon.

Al-Awlaki was born in 1971 in Las Cruces, N.M., where his father was studying for a master's degree at New Mexico State University. The family spent nearly a decade on American campuses. Anwar was 7 when they returned to Yemen, where they lived in a newish Sana'a neighborhood.

See Muslims encouraging debate, not hate.

See a bin Laden family photo album.

See pictures of a jihadist's journey.

A Yemeni government scholarship allowed Anwar to return to the U.S.; in 1991 he enrolled in Colorado State University's civil-engineering program. Friends remember al-Awlaki as a low-key young man who lived modestly in a one-bedroom apartment and drove around Fort Collins in a beat-up old Buick. He prayed at the Islamic Center of Fort Collins but did not stand out as being especially religious and was not active in CSU's Muslim students association.

When he visited Afghanistan in 1993, a journey that fired thousands of young Muslim men with jihadist zeal, the Soviet occupation had ended, and al-Awlaki was depressed by poverty and hunger in the homes where he stayed. "My impression was that he didn't like it there," says Abdul Belgasem, a fellow student at CSU. "He wouldn't have gone with al-Qaeda. He didn't like the way they lived." But at some point, al-Awlaki must have had something of a spiritual awakening. After graduating in 1994, he set aside civil engineering and applied to be imam of the Denver Islamic Society. He got the job because of his grasp of the Koran and his ability to preach in English. "The people there liked his translations," Belgasem says. Two years later, he moved to San Diego to run the larger al-Ribat al-Islami mosque and enrolled in a master's program in education at San Diego State University. It was in San Diego that he had his first brushes with the law: intelligence officials have told TIME that al-Awlaki was twice detained for soliciting prostitutes. (See the top 10 scandals of 2009.)

San Diego, intelligence officials say, was also where al-Awlaki first made contact with jihadists. He was on the board of a charity run by a Yemeni associate of bin Laden; the FBI has said the charity was a fundraising front for al-Qaeda. Officials also say al-Awlaki met with a close associate of Omar Abdel Rahman, the "Blind Sheik" behind the 1993 attempt to bomb New York City's World Trade Center.

These associations remained hidden from most of al-Awlaki's congregants. Many in San Diego remember him as a likable, articulate preacher with moderate views. Ahmad Ibrahim, president of the Muslim Student Association at the University of California at San Diego in 1999-2000, heard al-Awlaki speak on several occasions and says the cleric only occasionally addressed controversial topics like Palestinian suicide bombers. "He had the opinion that ... their mission was acceptable," Ibrahim says but adds, "I don't believe he ever proposed killing civilians." Another worshipper says the congregation wouldn't have tolerated extremist preaching. "[He wasn't] about speaking out against America or Americans. It was all about becoming a better Muslim," says this worshipper, who asked not to be named. "If anyone in our community had known anything about his leanings, we would have reported it."

The al-Qaeda Connection
But intelligence officials say al-Awlaki was leading a double life. In 2000 he met with Khalid al-Mihdhar and Nawaf al-Hazmi, two of the five men who on Sept. 11, 2001, would hijack American Airlines Flight 77 and fly it into the Pentagon. These sources say that al-Awlaki held several closed-door meetings with the hijackers and that they regularly attended his sermons. But although the FBI investigated al-Awlaki's possible al-Qaeda connections before 9/11, it was unable to make anything stick. (See TIME's photo-essay "Double Agents: A Photo Dossier.")

In early 2001, al-Hazmi would follow al-Awlaki to his next mosque, the Dar al-Hijrah in Falls Church, Va. Again, al-Awlaki paired his new job with an academic interest: he began working on a doctorate at George Washington University in Washington and, for good measure, became the university's Muslim chaplain. The double life continued. As in San Diego, al-Awlaki's sermons at Dar al-Hijrah were largely uncontroversial. Indeed, he spoke out against radicals, prompting the New York Times in October 2001 to label him as one of a "new generation of Muslim leader capable of merging East and West." But at the same time, intelligence officials say, he was steadily drawing closer to al-Qaeda: al-Hazmi introduced him to Hani Hanjour, another of the Flight 77 hijackers.

After 9/11, al-Awlaki swiftly condemned the hijackers. A PBS NewsHour program in October 2001 shows him in a sermon criticizing U.S. foreign policy but arguing that it did not justify killing Americans. On the contrary, he told PBS, "Every nation on the face of the earth has a right to defend itself and to bring the perpetrators to justice."

By this time, however, intelligence agencies were looking closely at al-Awlaki's connections to the hijackers. At the home in Hamburg of Ramzi Binalshibh, a Yemeni who was a leading figure in the 9/11 plot, German authorities found al-Awlaki's phone number. The FBI questioned the cleric but didn't have enough information to arrest him. In March 2002, he left the U.S. for Yemen. He made one final trip to the U.S. in October of that year and was briefly detained at New York City's JFK airport, but the FBI's attempt to arrest him on the charge of giving false information in a passport application came to nothing. After leaving the U.S., he spent nearly two years in London, returning to Yemen in 2004. He taught at a radical university before being arrested by Yemeni authorities and imprisoned for 18 months. The exact reasons are unknown; he was never charged. Al-Awlaki has blamed the U.S. for pressuring the Yemeni government to detain him and claims the FBI interrogated him in prison. (The FBI did not respond to requests for information about al-Awlaki.)

See what happened to the accused 9/11 plotters.

See pictures from the October 2009 suicide bombings in Islamabad.

See Muslims encouraging debate, not hate.

Terrorism Speaks Your Language
There are dozens of "e-imams" who preach hatred toward the West on the Internet, and some have greater clout among the faithful than al-Awlaki. But his books and CDs have become best sellers, and his YouTube sermons are getting hundreds of thousands of hits. The hype reached new heights recently when the Arabic-language news channel al-Arabiya dubbed al-Awlaki "the bin Laden of the Internet."

What distinguishes al-Awlaki is not his record; other preachers have had demonstrably closer links to al-Qaeda and jihad. It is his target audience. Al-Awlaki aims his sermons at young Muslims mostly living in the U.S. and Britain. This is a group he understands better than any other radical preacher. In his fluent English, he has become that rare specimen: the jihadist cleric who can communicate effortlessly with audiences in the West. His tone and his message can appear seductively conciliatory. Most of his sermons have nothing at all to do with radical ideology; they are simple translations from the Koran and stories about the life of the Prophet Muhammad. Al-Awlaki appeals to Muslim immigrants who worry that their English-speaking children are unable to connect to their faith. "He's lived amid such people, and he understands their dilemmas very well," says Jarret Brachman, author of Global Jihadism: Theory and Practice and former director of research at West Point's Combating Terror Center. "He's giving them an option, telling them, 'Here's how to be good Muslims when you don't have an imam to turn to.' " (See pictures of the battle against the Taliban.)

Brachman, who monitors jihadist websites, reckons that al-Awlaki's sermons are "totally harmless nine times out of 10 ... but in the 10th, he starts to breathe a little fire." Much of the brimstone can be found in his blog posts, in which al-Awlaki states baldly that Islam and the West are in conflict and argues that all Muslims should join the holy war. In a how-to guide titled "44 Ways to Support Jihad," he says, "Jihad today is obligatory on every capable Muslim. So as a Muslim who wants to please Allah it is your duty to find ways to practice it and support it."

Most of the "44 ways" involve helping the mujahedin, or holy warriors: giving them money, praying for them, sponsoring their families and encouraging others to join the jihad. Believers are also urged to be physically fit, learn to use arms and spiritually prepare for holy war. Al-Awlaki stops short of telling his readers to go out and fight unbelievers. Instead, he suggests it is enough to have the "right intention" and to pray for "martyrdom." But later in 2009, al-Awlaki's tone grew more strident. "I pray that Allah destroys America and all its allies," he said in a blog post. "And the day that happens, and I assure you it will and sooner than you think, I will be very pleased." If al-Awlaki merely exhorted his audience to jihad, he might have gotten no more than passing attention from Washington. But intelligence officials and counterterrorism experts insist that he is no longer content to preach. His association with AQAP, which may be the terrorist network's most ambitious franchise, has brought al-Awlaki closer to the practice of terrorism. "Over the past several years, he has gone from propagandist to recruiter to operational player," a counterterrorism official tells TIME. "He is clearly moving up the terrorist supply chain."

The exact nature of al-Awlaki's operational role remains in dispute. "There's nothing to suggest that he's sitting down and planning attacks," says Ben Venzke of IntelCenter, a private intelligence contractor. "But his connections to Hasan and Abdulmutallab show that he does more than just make some jihadist literature available online. His role is more important than that." Granted, al-Awlaki lacks combat experience. But Pete Hoekstra, the ranking Republican on the House Intelligence Committee, believes that the cleric has a strong influence on operational issues. "He plays a role in setting a strategic direction for AQAP," he says. "He's telling them, 'Attacking the U.S. homeland should be one of our priorities.' " Is that reason enough for the U.S. to try to take al-Awlaki out? "Absolutely, yes," says Hoekstra. "This is a guy who is encouraging and organizing people to kill Americans." The counterterrorism official agrees: "Taking him off the street would deal a blow to [AQAP]." (See TIME's tribute to people who passed away in 2009.)

That sounds reasonable. But even if the U.S. is right in identifying al-Awlaki as a present danger, getting to him won't be easy. Since the missile strike on his house, the preacher is thought to have gone into hiding among his tribe in Shabwa province. The Yemeni government, already burdened with its three civil wars, is unlikely to start a fourth with the al-Awlakis.

That leaves a U.S. drone strike as the most likely option. There is a precedent for that, but also an unpleasant reminder that al-Awlaki is not the first man brought up in the West — and will surely not be the last — who threw in his lot with jihadists. For in November 2002, one of the first ever drone operations took place in Yemen, killing, among others, Ahmed Hijazi, a suspected al-Qaeda operative. He was an American too.

— With reporting by Mark Thompson, Massimo Calabresi and Caitlin Duke / Washington; Rita Healy / Fort Collins; Teri Figueroa and Jill Underwood / San Diego; and Heather Murdock (GlobalPost) and Catrina Stewart / Sana'a