Step Inside a Saudi Rehab Prison for Jihadists

Government officials embrace a unique method of reform.

You don't expect to find queen-sized mattresses, minibars, or an indoor swimming pool in prison---must less a prison for suspected terrorists. Yet the 1,000 or so men accused of such crimes enjoy a rather comfortable life that includes conjugal visits at Al Ha'ir, a Saudi Arabian rehabilitation center taking an unusual approach to waging the war on terror.

“Their goal isn’t to incentivize through discomfort, but to incentivize through comfort and knowledge, asking the hard philosophical questions about religion,” says photographer David Degner, who got a rare look inside Al Ha'ir.

The deradicalization effort is a small part of the sprawling prison, which covers more than 19 million square feet and sits 25 miles south of Riyadh. It is one of five counter-terrorism facilities that hold some 5,000 prisoners in all. Many of them waged jihad abroad, committed attacks against the government, or simply fell in with the wrong circle. Although incarceration is clearly meant to punish, the prisons also hope to rehabilitate inmates by addressing the underlying problems---illiteracy, poverty, and the like---that authorities believe sent them down the wrong path to begin with.

The government embraced the approach about 14 years ago after a series of terrorist attacks. "The Saudis decided to engage in an experiment," says John Horgan, a psychologist at Georgia State University who wrote Walking Away from Terrorism: Accounts of Disengagement from Radical and Extremist Movements. "They wanted to develop a small program to rehabilitate terrorists through what they call re-education and rehabilitation."

Many similar projects arose in the wake of 9/11. The British program Channel matches at-risk youth with reformed radicals who counsel them to shun hatred. Google’s Jigsaw launched Redirect Method, which places de-radicalizing ads alongside search results associated with ISIS recruitment. And there are more than 40 terrorist deradicalization prisons and centers worldwide. The Saudis "never intended for people to know about it but then the Saudis were so convinced of their success that they decided to invite westerners to see it," Horgan says.

Islamic scholars work with inmates at Al Ha'ir to help them understand Islam and the Koran, and to abandon extremist ideology. "It’s about trying to convince the detainees that they have been mislead, that their particular interpretation of jihad comes from an authority that doesn’t have the proper credentials," Horgan says. Inmates also receive medical treatment at the on-site hospital and monthly conjugal visits with their wives in a hotel. The state provides the families with stipends and covers schooling costs as well.

"From the outside this might look like it’s a soft touch, treating jihadists, some of whom have blood on their hands, with kit gloves, but I can assure you it’s not," Horgan says. "There’s always the threat of coercion or the possibility that the family members may be mistreated or even imprisoned if the former detainee goes back to his old ways. There’s always the threat of sanction hanging over the air."

After serving their sentences, prisoners go off to rehabilitation centers like the Prince Mohammed Bin Nayef Center for Advice and Care. They spend another eight to 12 weeks in what amounts to a high-security halfway house, meeting with psychologists, undergoing art therapy, receiving job training and more. The government even helps prisoners find wives, buy cars, and land a job. "It’s almost like they’re engineering model citizens," Horgan says. "The individual has no time to go back to terrorism, they can’t spend time hanging around with their friends anymore."

Critics argue the government doesn't actually teach that religious violence is wrong, while others question the state's definition of terrorism. The inmates include dissidents, activists and people who didn't commit a crime, and Human Rights Watch says beatings and torture are common in Saudi prisons. The government remains opaque, so no one can say definitively how effective the deradicalization effort is, and some former inmates have gone on to commit terrorist attacks.

Degner spent two days at Al-Hair and the Prince Mohammed Bin Nayef center in May. Authorities would not allow him to photograph prisoners, required him to use an approved Nikon camera, and insisted upon reviewing all of his photos. He saw just one inmate, handcuffed with a bag over his head. Despite the restrictions, Denger's images provide a glimpse into an usual campaign where pink gilded hotel rooms, sun-dappled courtyards, and art therapy are among the weapons in the war on terror.