Why ISIS’s Message Still Echoes in America

The clock had just struck midnight. Fireworks illuminated the skies as people worldwide embraced the hope of a new year, the promise of a brighter 2025. I, too, tried to share in this fleeting moment of optimism. But history has taught me that optimism requires evidence, and evidence often delivers disappointment.

Then, the notifications began. One after another, from every major news outlet I follow—The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, The Washington Post, Le Figaro, Le Monde, and The Times of Israel. A driver had plowed a truck into New Year’s revelers in the French Quarter of New Orleans. The story unfolded in pieces: an attack, a flag, an ideology. By morning, the FBI confirmed what I had feared: the perpetrator had acted in the name of ISIS.

The image of the ISIS flag sent me back a decade to my hometown of Mosul. In those days, ISIS wasn’t just a shadowy presence; it was a brutal force that dismantled lives. They massacred the Yazidis, displaced Christians, and dismantled a city’s centuries-old social fabric. Those memories are indelible, the pain acute even now.

But this attack in New Orleans brought a different kind of ache. The perpetrator wasn’t from Mosul or Raqqa or another city scarred by ISIS’s violence. He was American. Born and raised in this country, a U.S. military veteran, and a recent convert to Islam. How could someone who converted to Islam just a year ago commit such a heinous and atrocious attack against innocent people whose only “crime” was trying to welcome a new year in joy and happiness? How could he have understood Islam in just one year?

I have been studying Islam since I was six years old. I am a professor who teaches the Middle East, a researcher who works on terrorism, and someone born and raised Muslim. Yet, to this day, I would not claim to understand Islam in all its depth and complexity fully. Add to that, he is American, living in a land distant and disconnected from the geography where ISIS once sought to establish its so-called caliphate a decade ago. How does someone so far removed from this history and context become enthralled by such a destructive ideology?

This was not the first case of an American finding appeal in ISIS. According to the GW Program on Extremism’s ISIS in America Tracker, 260 individuals in the U.S. have been charged for ISIS-related activities. The average age of these individuals at the time of charging was 27 years. They are not foreign fighters or clandestine operatives—they are Americans, radicalized at home, often online.

A few months ago, I sat with my colleague Jon Lewis, discussing the striking rise of antisemitism in America and the challenges law enforcement faces in addressing it. Our conversation turned to extremism more broadly, and one fact was both striking and unsettling: in the United States, it is not a crime to carry the flag of ISIS.

This paradox lies at the heart of the American psyche. The same legal protections safeguarding free speech also create challenges in confronting extremism. Symbols that would be criminalized elsewhere are protected here, making it harder for law enforcement to intervene until words or symbols escalate into violence.

But legal loopholes alone cannot explain the deeper issue: why does ISIS’s ideology still resonate in America?

America is a nation built on contradictions. It celebrates individualism but fosters widespread alienation. It prides itself on opportunity but often fails to provide meaning. The modern landscape feels fractured, overwhelming, and devoid of clear purpose for many. Into this void, ISIS inserts its propaganda—a seductive narrative that offers clarity, purpose, and belonging to those who feel disconnected.

For someone like the New Orleans attacker—a recent convert to Islam and a veteran—this narrative can feel like a lifeline. The group exploits personal grievances and reframes them as moral imperatives. It promises redemption for past failings, a sense of belonging to those adrift, and certainty in a disorienting world.

ISIS also understands the broader vulnerabilities of the digital age. Its propaganda is tailored to individual experiences, exploiting algorithms and social networks to reach the disillusioned. The group’s message can appear logical and righteous for someone already searching for answers—whether to existential questions or immediate personal struggles.

And then there is the intersection of extremisms. The rise of domestic radicalism in the United States has created an ecosystem where ideologies—jihadist, white supremacist, anti-government—can overlap and reinforce each other. This feedback loop of polarization and hate feeds directly into ISIS’s strategy, making its message more accessible to Americans than ever before.

The United States has been successful in combating terrorism abroad. There are many cases where it managed to eradicate terrorism, and its most recent success is the fact that ISIS was unable to hold on to a leader for more than a day before the U.S. located and eliminated him. It is time for the United States to focus even more on domestic extremism, and it needs a serious domestic discussion to combat domestic terrorism and ISIS-inspired terrorism.

The New Orleans attack is not an anomaly; it is a symptom. It underscores the enduring appeal of an ideology that thrives not on geography but on human vulnerabilities. It also raises troubling questions about the fissures within American society—fissures that extremist groups exploit with alarming success.

For me, this attack is personal. It is a reminder of Mosul’s scars, of the fragility of peace, and of the persistence of ideas that should have died with ISIS’s caliphate. But it is also a reminder that the fight against extremism is far from over. It is not just a battle of law enforcement or military might but a battle for meaning, belonging, and connection in a world that increasingly denies these to its people.

We cannot afford complacency if there is a lesson in this tragedy. ISIS may have lost its territories, but its ideology endures, slipping through the cracks of societies from Mosul to New Orleans. Until we address the root causes of alienation and extremism, the shadows of the past will continue to darken the future.

And so, the question remains: how do we fill the void before it is weaponized again?