Why did it happen? Why here, why that particular day, and most heartbreakingly, why target those innocent young girls who were simply enjoying a summer holiday workshop, making bracelets for one another? These are the haunting questions that have likely plagued the families in Southport since last July. It was then that Axel Rudakubana, merely 17 years old at the time, tragically took the lives of three children and attempted to kill eight more, including two adults, in what prosecutors described this week as a “sadistic” spree. Despite being in the courtroom, the grieving parents received no explanations from Rudakubana, now a young man. He remained mostly silent, save for a few peculiar and petulant remarks directed at the judge. But, in a way, such an inquiry cannot truly be satisfied. No motive, no ideology, however twisted or irrational, can justify such an act against a six-year-old. Arguing over whether this was an act of terrorism, as the judge noted while handing down a 52-year sentence, misses the core issue. Rudakubana, it seems, would’ve claimed as many lives as possible if he had the chance.
Some might turn to ancient notions of evil to rationalize this unimaginable act of violence. A tabloid writer even went so far as to claim they “saw the devil” in Rudakubana’s eyes, yet we do not dwell in an era haunted by demons and witches. Today, our society faces the challenge of addressing monstrous acts perpetrated by humans; our duty is to identify and mend the societal flaws that allow such horrors to occur. Governments need to ask not ‘why’, but ‘how’, so that we can prevent these tragedies from recurring.
This case has been marred by allegations of cover-ups, so when prosecutors outlined the series of events they would have presented had Rudakubana not unexpectedly confessed, they were not just speaking to a courtroom but to an entire nation. The narrative painted a picture of a withdrawn teenager, consumed by violent fixations, lingering on the radar of various authorities for years but never fully recognized for the threat he posed. Diagnosed with autism and anxiety, his school experiences were troubled—expelled for bringing a knife to class in 2019, and seemingly bent on retaliating against peers he claimed bullied him. Incidents like attacking a child with a hockey stick hinted at a darker intent, with prosecutors suspecting he plotted a larger attack on his former school, thwarted only by his father’s intervention.
Was Rudakubana somehow indirectly traumatized by the civil conflict his parents fled from in Rwanda, despite growing up in the UK and having never experienced it himself? Or did his grim obsessions merely find a channel there? He either cannot or will not say, leaving us once more without the “why”. Nonetheless, the “how” is starkly apparent. Rudakubana was bounced between social services, mental health programs, the police, and the Prevent anti-radicalisation initiative, referred there at least thrice in as many years for researching school shootings and the London Bridge attack. Yet, each time, he slipped just below the intervention threshold. As Keir Starmer remarked, the systemic failure to prevent his real-world enactment of such violence “frankly leaps off the page”. The legal framework may need amendment to encompass acts that, while devoid of clear ideological motivation—the “why?” central to defining terrorism—are still devastating, and this shifts how deradicalisation efforts engage with individuals like Rudakubana.
While Starmer posited this case as indicative of a new terrorist paradigm, those entrenched in the field recognize it as anything but novel, raising the question of whether past home secretaries could have taken earlier action. For years, authorities have wrestled with “salad bar extremism” as the Americans term it—individuals self-radicalizing, choosing from the internet’s extensive smorgasbord of conspiracy theories and grievances. An attacker might be influenced in an “incel” forum, inspired by a school shooter’s manifesto, and learn tactics from jihadist guides, like the one Rudakubana accessed, yet not fully embrace jihadism.
MI5’s director, Ken McCallum, highlighted a rise in “more volatile would-be terrorists with only a tenuous grasp of the ideologies they profess to follow” last October, complicating the distinction between ideology-driven and mentally health-driven violence—a matter ministers intensely debate in the chaotic aftermath of such attacks. As we observed in Southport, misunderstandings in this area only surface underlying tensions.
Although the previous administration released a Prevent review by William Shawcross in 2023, the then Home Secretary, Suella Braverman, focused on the perceived imbalance of focus on far-right suspects over Islamist ones, citing a “cultural timidity” in doing so. Shawcross’s assessment concluded that Prevent has devolved into a repository for vulnerable individuals who don’t fit the terrorist profile but, in hindsight, resemble figures like Rudakubana—what Starmer dubbed “loners and misfits”, prone to falling into online rabbit holes. He argued that Prevent should hone in on “tackling the ideological causes of terrorism”. One urgent consideration is whether the refocusing on Prevent properly addressed where and how those diverted would be managed. Recently, Home Secretary Yvette Cooper called for a review of Prevent’s criteria and enhanced oversight of those excluded from its programs, indicating her concerns.
What propels so many young men—often they are men—into the “parallel lives” that Starmer mentioned, drifting dangerously away from society? Cooper’s review aims to explore the contributions of mental health issues and neurodivergence, a delicate discussion given the fear of stigmatizing affected individuals, yet one that echoes mounting worries within Prevent about socially isolated individuals seeking solace and community online.
The forthcoming public inquiry should also dig into whether Rudakubana went unnoticed during lockdown—a period when many children lost contact with services, becoming victims far more often than perpetrators. If not, how could he remain so prominently recognized by children’s services yet receive no effective intervention? Parents familiar with these systems might not be shocked by such systemic oversights, characterized by growing thresholds for action and diminished resources. While ministers are correct in ramping up measures against extremist content online and the sale of knives, these alone won’t solve underlying issues.
I extend my deepest sympathies to the families in Southport grieving their losses and those who now bear deep, lifelong scars. We might never address all their questions, yet it’s crucial to dissect how Rudakubana found his path towards this tragic outcome. Although this pursuit is painful, it’s our best hope to prevent such dark roads from being walked again.
