Forget grimy battlefields, as today’s extremist movements are contesting for followers online. The Islamic State of Khorasan (ISK) has gone entirely digital, and its English-language e-magazine, Voice of Khorasan (VoK), is its new weapon of mass persuasion. VoK has gone global, targeting the potential recruits with eye-catching graphics and glorifying stories of the “heroic martyrs”.
This venture of Al-Azaim Foundation dodges bans and employs encrypted apps to keep ISK’s propaganda flowing. The mastered narrative of “us vs them” makes the advocates feel like part of the persecuted club. Whenever social media companies try to shut it down, VoK label it as proof of a worldwide anti-Muslim conspiracy that drives even more clicks and shares.
The new interface of extremism: slick, digital, yet perilous
Modern-day terrorism is not all about bombs, bullets, and battlefield triumphs. The groups like Islamic State of Khorasan (ISK) are waging a different kind of war, a combat that is waged in hearts and minds, and is advancing online. Within the religious battlefield, the group manipulates identity to draw lines between “us versus them” to justify the perpetuated violent manoeuvres.
The e-magazine of the Al-Azaim Media Foundation, Voice of Khorasan (VoK), plays a pivotal role in this regard. VoK does not merely serve as a propaganda tool; rather, it is a manual for ideological warfare. With special purchase to martyrdom and heroism in editorials and religious commentaries—VoK labels ISK as the sole custodian of Islam, where, irrespective of any distinction, Afghan Taliban 2.0 and the West are framed and treated as traitorous, impure, or corrupt. Online narratives further label rivals as “apostates” or “hypocrites.”. Meanwhile, the group asserts religious legitimacy while also conveying a sense of responsibility—if not an obligation—to confront them. This is not just about demonising adversaries, but rather about presenting a worldview where jihad becomes a duty.
From bullets to broadcast:
Those who view ISK as merely a regional insurgency are missing a larger point. Over the preceding years—after the US exit from Afghanistan—the group has strategically adapted its focus. Still perilous and violent, they have been increasingly capitalising on digital outreach, with content, video, and audio now targeting a global audience. The propaganda material of the group (for instance, in VoK) blends theological arguments with modern-day graphics, visuals, and captivating slogans like “Don’t miss the caravan of glory”. The issues of VoK framed the Taliban as a “puppet of the West.” Similarly, for Muslims who advocate democracy, the narrative is the same: we are right, they are wrong, and if you disagree, you are credited as an enemy too.
This strategic communication is authoritative and influential as it taps into deep feelings of alienation, spiritual confusion, and injustice. And for those disillusioned with politics, identity, and religion, ISK underscores clarity, purpose and belonging, all wrapped up in divine justifications. During the early years, when ISK was ruling in Nangarhar and Kunar, the focus was on power and authority. But as the group relies more on an underground insurgency, the narrative has shifted significantly. The group now portrays its cadres as martyrs, heroes, and defenders of Islam, while branding others as apostates, tyrants (tagoot), and enemies of the faith. This type of strategic rebranding has proven to be unexpectedly effective in advancing their cause.
Why does it matter?
This shift in behaviour and narrative is significant for three reasons. The first is ISK’s focus on going global, which is amplified by advances in information technology and interconnectivity, combined with the skills of its members. While their content intentionally disregards national boundaries, it is these technological factors that enable ISK’s ideas to spread rapidly—often under the radar—across South Asia, Central Asia, North America, and beyond. Secondly, lone-wolf incitement has long been a pivotal point of ISIS communications—including those of ISKP. However, recent messaging campaigns demonstrate some degree of sophistication and adaptability. Advances in digital platforms and multimedia outreach have expanded the reach and speed of such calls to action, targeting new and broader audiences—including diaspora and Western Muslims—through the use of tailored language and culturally relevant content. This tactical evolution, combined with a strategic emphasis on low-barrier attacks during symbolic times, makes the current incitement more immediate and challenging to counter than ever before. This has already been witnessed in the case of ISIS in Europe and the West. The individuals radicalised online perpetuate violence without ever setting foot on the battlefield. VoK’s emotionally charged content, for instance—Taliban makes Halal Haram and Haram Halal and the claim—We will make the earth wet with your impure blood-and calls to action are specifically tailored to this kind of recruitment base. Lastly, countering lone wolf provocation is not just about taking down web pages or detaining operatives. ISK’s success online is less about technical disruptions and more about controlling the narrative in cyberspace, spreading compelling propaganda that fuels radicalisation and sustains loyalty despite territorial losses.
What is the way forward?
To begin, the counterterrorism experts increasingly recognise the significance of listening to the messages groups—like ISKP are delivering, rather than dismissing them as mere “extremist noise.” Analysts, journalists, and policymakers now observe these narratives with caution, understanding that words may be deadlier than the bullets. The content produced by ISKP reveals not only the group’s evolution but also its targeted audiences and future intentions—providing crucial insights into its tactics.
The world should advocate for and protect the voices that challenge this manipulation. That means support should be extended to the scholars, theologians and former deradicalised extremists who may offer the correct interpretation of Islam—one that is inclusive, peaceful, and rooted in humanity. Such messages require genuine platforms as loud and effective as ISK’s. Furthermore, civil societies and tech companies could also be productive in combating such voices. Most importantly, extremism often grows in spaces where people feel disillusioned or cynical. When religious communities feel themselves under siege, when youth feel disenfranchised and when politics feel hopeless, extremist narrative(s) gain traction. Terrorism, under these circumstances, is not just about security—it would be then about dignity, self-possession, and self-esteem.
ISK is strategically adapting to its loss of territorial control by gaining digital reach. They may now never be able to govern formally. Still, they are constructing something even more perilous—a group of people who conform to an ideology which sees violence as sacred and uses religious identity as a weapon. To prevent the threat of lone wolf attacks or to stop another generation from being drawn into violent digital incitements, greater attention has to be paid to the contemporary battle of ideas. In the battle of minds and hearts, the most potent weapon is always the well-crafted narrative from either side.
Maheen Farhat Raza is currently serving as a Lecturer at the Department of International Relations, National University of Modern Languages (NUML), Islamabad. She is a post-graduate of the National Defence University, Pakistan. Ms. Raza is actively contributing to the international academic discourse. She frequently presents her research at prestigious forums, including, but not limited to, Sakarya University in Türkiye, the University of Birmingham, and Newcastle University in the United Kingdom. She may be reached at maheen.raza@numl.edu.pk.
This article is published under a Creative Commons License and may be republished with attribution.
