When I hear the term “lone wolf”, I think of the quiet, unseen danger that can live right among us. Unlike members of a large terrorist network, these individuals do not answer to a central commander, do not rely on a big team, and often keep their plans entirely to themselves. This makes them far harder to detect — and, in many cases, far deadlier.
A lone wolf can be a neighbor you’ve greeted at the gate, a colleague you’ve worked alongside for years, or even a student in a local college. They do not need to cross borders or attend secret training camps abroad. They can be radicalized right in their living rooms, through encrypted chat groups, fringe online forums, echo chambers or extremist videos. Their isolation, rather than being a weakness, is actually their strength — it shields them from the kind of surveillance that catches organized terrorist cells.
In the United States, the Department of Homeland Security and the FBI have repeatedly sounded the alarm: homegrown violent extremists, many operating as lone wolves, remain one of the most pressing terrorist threats. In Kenya, we face the same reality — Al-Shabaab may operate from across the Somalia border, but many of its deadliest attacks have been carried out by individuals who were radicalized quietly, often blending into their communities until the moment they strike.
Radicalization is not like flicking a switch; it’s a slow burn. And while no two paths look exactly alike, security analysts often describe it in stages: pre-radicalization, self-identification, indoctrination, and action.
Pre-radicalization is the stage before extremist ideology enters the picture. At this point, a person might be dealing with deep personal grievances, loneliness, or feelings of being excluded from society. These vulnerabilities can make extremist narratives appealing — because such narratives offer someone to blame, and a sense of belonging. In today’s world, this stage often plays out online, where algorithms quietly push people toward more extreme content without them even realizing it.
Self-identification comes when the person begins to adopt pieces of extremist thinking. They might start consuming propaganda, joining niche online groups (echo chambers), or echoing radical talking points. This is often the stage where early intervention is still possible — if friends, family, or co-workers notice the change. This is where citizens come in. The people near the person. At this point security agencies, unless alerted, cannot know what is going on.
Indoctrination is when ideology takes deep root. The person becomes convinced that violence is not only justified, but necessary. They surround themselves with voices that reinforce their beliefs, shutting out any alternative perspectives. At this stage, citizens will hear security threats and see possibly materials pointing out suspicious activity. The good citizens will speak out. But, others will keep quiet because it’s a father, mother, sibling, friend, neighbor, co-worker or relative.
Action is the final stage — when they start buying weapons, conducting reconnaissance, or setting a date for an attack. By this point, the window for prevention is small, and the consequences of inaction can be devastating.
In the past, a would-be terrorist had to travel abroad to train, often risking detection. Today, the internet has eliminated that barrier. Extremists can download bomb-making manuals, watch operational training videos, or discuss target selection with strangers in encrypted chat rooms — all without leaving their home.
I think of the Boston Marathon bombers in 2013, who used an online version of Inspire magazine to build their pressure cooker bombs. And more recently, in 2023, a man in Texas was arrested for plotting to attack a synagogue after downloading small-arms tactics manuals from extremist Telegram channels. He never met his online “mentors” in person — his entire plan existed in encrypted digital conversations.
Here in Kenya, the digital dimension has been just as dangerous. Al-Shabaab recruiters have targeted young people in Mombasa, Nairobi, and Garissa through WhatsApp and Telegram, promising money, purpose, or religious reward. The speed of this online radicalization is alarming — cases have emerged where individuals move from first exposure to attack planning in just weeks. That compressed timeline means communities have even less time to intervene and that necessitates a high level of alertness.
Lone wolves are hard to detect, but they often leave clues. Security agencies call these “leakage behaviors,” and they are best noticed by people in the individual’s immediate environment. Some of these signs include: withdrawing suddenly from friends and family, expressing open sympathy for violent extremists, stockpiling weapons or unusual quantities of ammunition, conducting surveillance of places without a clear reason and posting threats or radical rhetoric online.
If you notice for instance a person obsessively watching videos of previous mass shootings online and commenting on them about “making history.” That should make you report it to the police. Your response might be the action that will prevent a church attack. The principle here is simple: If you see something, say something. Your tip might be the only warning anyone gets.
Stopping lone wolves is so difficult. This is because they don’t talk to accomplices who could be flipped into informants. They don’t use large networks that intelligence agencies can infiltrate. Their motivations are often personal as much as ideological, making them unpredictable. And in open, democratic societies — whether in the U.S., Kenya, or any other nation — civil liberties limit how far authorities can go without hard evidence.
This is why the citizen’s role is so critical. It’s not about profiling people based on race, religion, or ethnicity — it’s about noticing behaviors that signal preparation for violence.
Lone wolves thrive in shadows — in anonymity, in isolation, in spaces where grievances can harden into rage. The only way to pull them into the light is for all of us to take our role seriously. You don’t have to be a police officer or an intelligence agent to make a difference. Sometimes, all it takes is noticing what others miss, and having the courage to speak up. In an age where a single person can cause mass harm, an engaged citizen is not just part of the defense — they can be the deciding factor between prevention and disaster.
A lone wolf can be a neighbor you’ve greeted at the gate, a colleague you’ve worked alongside for years, or even a student in a local college. They do not need to cross borders or attend secret training camps abroad. They can be radicalized right in their living rooms, through encrypted chat groups, fringe online forums, echo chambers or extremist videos. Their isolation, rather than being a weakness, is actually their strength — it shields them from the kind of surveillance that catches organized terrorist cells.
In the United States, the Department of Homeland Security and the FBI have repeatedly sounded the alarm: homegrown violent extremists, many operating as lone wolves, remain one of the most pressing terrorist threats. In Kenya, we face the same reality — Al-Shabaab may operate from across the Somalia border, but many of its deadliest attacks have been carried out by individuals who were radicalized quietly, often blending into their communities until the moment they strike.
Radicalization is not like flicking a switch; it’s a slow burn. And while no two paths look exactly alike, security analysts often describe it in stages: pre-radicalization, self-identification, indoctrination, and action.
Pre-radicalization is the stage before extremist ideology enters the picture. At this point, a person might be dealing with deep personal grievances, loneliness, or feelings of being excluded from society. These vulnerabilities can make extremist narratives appealing — because such narratives offer someone to blame, and a sense of belonging. In today’s world, this stage often plays out online, where algorithms quietly push people toward more extreme content without them even realizing it.
Self-identification comes when the person begins to adopt pieces of extremist thinking. They might start consuming propaganda, joining niche online groups (echo chambers), or echoing radical talking points. This is often the stage where early intervention is still possible — if friends, family, or co-workers notice the change. This is where citizens come in. The people near the person. At this point security agencies, unless alerted, cannot know what is going on.
Indoctrination is when ideology takes deep root. The person becomes convinced that violence is not only justified, but necessary. They surround themselves with voices that reinforce their beliefs, shutting out any alternative perspectives. At this stage, citizens will hear security threats and see possibly materials pointing out suspicious activity. The good citizens will speak out. But, others will keep quiet because it’s a father, mother, sibling, friend, neighbor, co-worker or relative.
Action is the final stage — when they start buying weapons, conducting reconnaissance, or setting a date for an attack. By this point, the window for prevention is small, and the consequences of inaction can be devastating.
In the past, a would-be terrorist had to travel abroad to train, often risking detection. Today, the internet has eliminated that barrier. Extremists can download bomb-making manuals, watch operational training videos, or discuss target selection with strangers in encrypted chat rooms — all without leaving their home.
I think of the Boston Marathon bombers in 2013, who used an online version of Inspire magazine to build their pressure cooker bombs. And more recently, in 2023, a man in Texas was arrested for plotting to attack a synagogue after downloading small-arms tactics manuals from extremist Telegram channels. He never met his online “mentors” in person — his entire plan existed in encrypted digital conversations.
Here in Kenya, the digital dimension has been just as dangerous. Al-Shabaab recruiters have targeted young people in Mombasa, Nairobi, and Garissa through WhatsApp and Telegram, promising money, purpose, or religious reward. The speed of this online radicalization is alarming — cases have emerged where individuals move from first exposure to attack planning in just weeks. That compressed timeline means communities have even less time to intervene and that necessitates a high level of alertness.
Lone wolves are hard to detect, but they often leave clues. Security agencies call these “leakage behaviors,” and they are best noticed by people in the individual’s immediate environment. Some of these signs include: withdrawing suddenly from friends and family, expressing open sympathy for violent extremists, stockpiling weapons or unusual quantities of ammunition, conducting surveillance of places without a clear reason and posting threats or radical rhetoric online.
If you notice for instance a person obsessively watching videos of previous mass shootings online and commenting on them about “making history.” That should make you report it to the police. Your response might be the action that will prevent a church attack. The principle here is simple: If you see something, say something. Your tip might be the only warning anyone gets.
Stopping lone wolves is so difficult. This is because they don’t talk to accomplices who could be flipped into informants. They don’t use large networks that intelligence agencies can infiltrate. Their motivations are often personal as much as ideological, making them unpredictable. And in open, democratic societies — whether in the U.S., Kenya, or any other nation — civil liberties limit how far authorities can go without hard evidence.
This is why the citizen’s role is so critical. It’s not about profiling people based on race, religion, or ethnicity — it’s about noticing behaviors that signal preparation for violence.
Lone wolves thrive in shadows — in anonymity, in isolation, in spaces where grievances can harden into rage. The only way to pull them into the light is for all of us to take our role seriously. You don’t have to be a police officer or an intelligence agent to make a difference. Sometimes, all it takes is noticing what others miss, and having the courage to speak up. In an age where a single person can cause mass harm, an engaged citizen is not just part of the defense — they can be the deciding factor between prevention and disaster.
