SINGAPORE — He was jolted awake in bed and saw his mother standing over him, telling him that officers from the Internal Security Department (ISD) were in their house. They wanted to investigate him for being radicalised, she said.

In a matter of minutes, Irfan (not his real name) was led away by the officers. He was in tears as his family members stood by, unable to do anything.

Several thoughts went through Irfan's mind and the past flashed before him, such as how he wanted to undertake jihad (armed struggle) in Syria, but the biggest question he had was, 'What was going to happen to me?'

During the investigations, Irfan managed to be compliant and cooperative. He recounted how he was radicalised and revealed everything to the officers.

"It was a really difficult time in my life. I thought my life was over," he said.

Then, the rehabilitation process began as quickly as his arrest. Part of it involved religious counselling, where he came face to face with a religious teacher.

Irfan spoke his mind about Muslims being persecuted. He asked whether committing jihad was right or wrong.

Having a religious teacher by his side, there was an exchange of views. Learning about Islam off the Internet, on the other hand, was quite a one-sided affair, Irfan said.

Throughout the religious counselling, there wasn't a point where he countered or disagreed with the religious teacher's views and assessments. "I was seeking to understand… and he (religious teacher) gave me a better understanding of it all."

In a rare move recently, the authorities agreed to requests from the media to speak to former radicalised persons, after three such individuals consented to be interviewed.

Over two days, reporters from selected news outlets were ushered into a screening room at the ISD Heritage Centre to personally interview them.

To protect their identities, pseudonyms were given, and details such as their exact ages, the schools they attended or occupations they hold cannot be reported.

Similarly, information such as when they were arrested or released, and whether they were previously placed under detention or restriction orders, cannot be disclosed in case the men's identities may be traced, since the three interviewees have been successfully re-integrated into society.

Since 2002, close to 90 individuals have been detained under the Internal Security Act for terrorism-related activities. Presently, about three-quarters of them have been released from detention. As at June 20 this year, there are 21 people detained under the Act and another 21 are issued with restriction orders, which impose conditions whereby their movements are monitored, for instance.

Irfan's account of his rehab could be considered rather smooth. There are some others whose rehabilitation journey has been bumpy, or as another former radicalised individual puts it, "not a walk in the park".

Hakim (not his real name), who is in his 40s, described himself as being in an "extremist, fundamentalist state of mind" before his rehab. He was not open to counselling.

To change, he had to take the first step, and that meant acknowledging that "there was something wrong with me".

"Once I took the first step, things became easy. Life becomes easier because you know you're moving forward," Hakim said. "There's light at the end of the tunnel."

A TWISTED TURN TO WELL-MEANING INTENTIONS

Raised in a conservative household, Irfan said that he had a good childhood and learnt good values from his family. When he entered polytechnic, he found himself facing plenty of distractions and his social circle widened. He attended music festivals, for example, and started partying and drinking. He called them his "vices".

However, as much as he wanted a "good social life", Irfan found it hard to reconcile with how he is expected to be a "good" Muslim to please his parents. Just like any other teenager, he was having an identity crisis at the age of 18.

"I wasn't too proud of myself. I always felt conflicted because I was engaging in vices (and yet) wanted to find my religious identity," he said. "I was looking for peace internally. I was looking at how I could redeem myself."

His search to find meaning in religion started with him watching online video footage of preachers discussing global affairs. Then, it went down a different track: He turned to videos peddling conspiracy theories, one of which argued that the American government had staged the Sept 11 attacks, and blamed it on Muslim terrorists in order to bring down Islam.

The idea to join the Islamic State (IS) to partake in jihad took root after he read and watched the impact of the Syrian war on Muslims. No one wanted to help them, so he decided he would be their martyr.

Similarly, Hakim's journey to understand Islam — which started innocently when he wanted to be a better Muslim — took a deviant turn.

Another common thread in both men's accounts is the notion of penance.

Hakim admitted that he was not religious given that he used to drink, but this lifestyle changed after a family member fell ill. In seeking "divine help" from God and praying for a cure, he started reading more about Islam and saw the beauty of the religion.

He reflected on his past then and felt that he wanted to "make up for (his) sins".

While his desire to repent grew, so did his appetite for religious knowledge. In the process, he came across materials by radical preachers, one of whom was Yemeni-American Anwar al-Awlaki, a member of the Al-Qaeda terrorist group who was later killed in a drone strike in 2011.

The influence of radical propaganda crept in, and Hakim believed, among other things, that he had an obligation to ensure that non-Muslims do not belong in Islamic countries.

Dismissing the view towards multi-culturalism which he grew up embracing in Singapore, Hakim became convinced that "Islamic unity trumps the identity of being citizens in whichever country".

Waging jihad in the name of Islam was embedded in his mind, but Hakim did not want to say more about what else he was planning to do then.

THE RISK OF SOCIAL ISOLATION

In both cases, the two men's increasing religiosity prompted them to withdraw from the outside world.

They found themselves interacting less with family members and friends, surfing for radical materials online in a clandestine manner, and frequently posting articles on their social media accounts about Islam or the Syrian war.

Their families and friends noticed their behavioural changes.

Hakim remembered that some of those close to him expressed concerns that he was becoming too religious, too fast.

They suggested that he consult a religious teacher, but he would say that he was "not ready yet" and he needed to "find out more on my own".

For Irfan, he broached the subject of jihad with his parents, but "being Asian parents, they brushed it off", he said. He attended religious classes, but felt that they were "too basic", touching only on the basic principles of Islam.

"It wasn't enough for me, so I read up more online," he added.

There have been conflicting assumptions on who could end up being radicalised. Some suggested that those who have little or no education are at risk, while others pointed to poverty as a key factor.

Young people are also singled out as being more susceptible, with a tendency to romanticise the idea of being part of a dangerous adventure.

However, in a study published in 2016 by the Ministry of Home Affairs' psychologists who have worked with radicalised individuals, it found that there is no fixed profile that can help identify a person most likely to gravitate towards violent extremism.

Asked to give his take on this, Hakim, a university graduate, said: "Leave aside terrorism, let's look at crime. It's committed by the poor and the rich, educated and uneducated… So, that argument doesn't hold water."

It might even be a generalisation to say that Muslims are prone to take part in armed violence.

In another case, Kenny (not his real name) was intercepted at a transit point in another country while he was on the way to Syria, where he planned to join the militia that was battling against IS.

He was sent back to Singapore, where investigations found that his actions were the result of him wanting to flee from his own financial problems. Having taken personal loans for a business venture that eventually failed, Kenny said that he owed several banks a debt amounting to a "five-figure sum" in total.

Unlike Irfan and Hakim, who were more guarded about their past, Kenny, a free-thinker in his 20s, said matter-of-factly about him turning to extremist ideology: "It was a not-so-wise choice."

He said that he was watching the news about the Syrian war one day, empathised with the women and children who were oppressed by IS, and just booked a one-way flight to Syria the next day, using his credit card even though he was already in debt.

LOST TIME

Undergoing rehab after their arrest, the men's mental and emotional well-being are taken into consideration. They do not just get religious counselling, but also psychological counselling.

Hakim said: "They will ask how you are doing in detention, how to move away from the past and move towards the future."

Rehabilitation officers would clarify the detainees' doubts about the system, such as how they are going to be treated.

MHA said that detainees may clarify their misunderstanding of Islamic concepts and discuss their concerns and feelings on non-religious matters.

For the detainees' families, the Inter-Agency Aftercare Group provides support by connecting them to welfare programmes that include family counselling, financial assistance and work placement. To date, the agency has helped more than 60 families apply for various forms of assistance.

Hakim said that in his case, the officers also helped him to find a job, providing contacts of people in industries he was interested in joining.

For him, Irfan and Kenny, it is evident that they want to move on. They are sorry for the emotional distress they have caused their loved ones, the lost time that could have been spent with families, and having missed out on career or educational opportunities.

Emotions ran high, especially for Irfan and Hakim, as they recounted their arrest and the reunions that followed after their release. At times, their voice quivered as they tried to hold back tears.

"It was disturbing to think that I wanted to help people 1,000 miles away instead of helping my own family," Hakim said. He teared up as he remembered being greeted with hugs and kisses from his wife and children.

Asked whether there were any lessons learnt from this trial, he added: "Maintain a healthy scepticism of what you read online."

Irfan repeatedly said that he might not have to go through this dark episode had his parents been more open in discussing Islam with him.

Based on his experience, he said that parents should not simply dismiss the views raised by their children but engage them. "Help to open the door for your kids," he added.

Religious teachers, too, should be more forthcoming to engage the young through multiple platforms, including producing videos on commonly misinterpreted concepts, Irfan said.

His advice to youth who may be going through what he did is to seek clarification from religious teachers. "Don't think that you're always right," he said.

To those who are still being detained or serving under restriction orders, Hakim said: "The doors are there, but they are not locked. You just need to pick up the courage to open your heart and mind to change before you can walk out."