WHEN BRENTON Tarrant gunned down fifty-one worshippers at the Al Noor Mosque and Linwood Islamic Centre in Christchurch, New Zealand, in March, he set off yet another alarm about the danger of terrorism on the right. A copycat attack followed in April, when a man with an AR-15 attacked the Chabad of Poway synagogue in California, murdering one worshipper and wounding several others. Tarrant himself had followed in the footsteps of Robert Bowers, who murdered eleven worshippers at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh in October 2018, citing Jewish support for migrants entering the United States. And Bowers followed in the footsteps of Dylan Roof, who slaughtered nine black congregants at the historic Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina, in 2015. In the United Kingdom, a white supremacist assassinated Jo Cox, a Labour member of parliament who favored migrants—one right-wing group tweeted, “Only 649 MPs to go #WhiteJihad.” Such attacks track with widespread reports that a record number of hate groups are active in the United States and images of mass demonstrations by white nationalists, like those in Charlottesville, Virginia, in 2017, where “Unite the Right” protesters marched en masse and then, the next day, one of the white supremacists drove his car into a crowd of counterprotesters, killing one.

Whether right-wing terrorism is rising or simply getting more media attention is fiercely contested, but its political impact does indeed seem to be growing. In both the United States and Europe, violence on the right intersects with traditional politics and exacerbates political divides, giving it far more influence than it had in the past. In addition, it is increasingly international, drawing on a diverse set of influences, causes and players, including Russia. Events and grievances in Europe or the United States inspire action in other parts of the world and vice-versa, with social media providing the connective tissue among extremists who would otherwise not know of one another. At the same time, however, this movement is inchoate and far from robust. It is internally divided and thrives in part because so little has been done to impede it.

The United States and other countries can exploit right-wing groups’ vulnerabilities and tackle the threat they pose. Many of these measures require treating them in the same fashion as jihadist groups. This would include designating their activities as terrorism, targeting their support structures and using their international connections against them. By reducing right-wing violence, and by also keeping pressure on jihadist groups whose violence feeds the right-wingers, the United States can reduce, though hardly eliminate, this phenomenon.

ASSESSING THE true extent of and the danger posed by right-wing terrorism is difficult. As terrorism expert Bruce Hoffman points out in Inside Terrorism, right-wing groups in Europe have carried out sporadic attacks since the 1970s—in August 1980, neo-Nazis bombed a rail station in Bologna, Italy, during the height of summer holidays, killing eighty-four people. In 1995, Timothy McVeigh, an anti-government extremist, bombed the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, killing 168 people. No single domestic attack in recent years has reached McVeigh’s bloody toll.

In recent years, hate crimes based on race, ethnicity, gender and religion have increased, but it is hard to know if this is a genuine trend or simply better reporting and collection. In addition, many hate crimes fall below the threshold of being a terrorist act. Data presented by scholar Jacob Aasland Ravndal indicate that despite recent high-profile attacks like those in Pittsburgh and New Zealand, deadly violence may have fallen in both the United States and Western Europe, in part due to the decline of the neo-Nazi movement, which often committed brutal but small-scale attacks on African Americans, immigrants and other targets. The conflation of robberies and other crimes committed by extreme right-wing groups with (violent) acts of terrorism causes another coding problem. In addition, the rise of anti-immigrant parties has allowed a peaceful, if intolerant, path for those who want to stop Muslims or others from entering their countries.

Another problem is that right-wing terrorism as a category is a bit murky. As Hoffman notes, right-wing terrorism has a reputation of “seemingly mindless ‘street’ violence” that targets immigrants and other foreigners in Europe. Moreover, while some favor Nazism or other political ideals, most do not espouse a specific program and prefer vague nationalist and racist slogans. For some it is simply an excuse “for the egocentric pleasure derived from brawling and bombing, preening or parading in 1940s-era Nazi regalia.” European right-wing terrorism is usually secular, while American groups often try to draw on Christianity to justify their action.

Often, right-wing violence is mixed with “domestic” terrorism in a category, to contrast it with international terrorism like that practiced by Al Qaeda. The domestic label, however, can include homegrown jihadis, and of course, some white supremacist groups have international links. In addition, domestic terrorism can include the enemies of right-wing groups, such as the left-wing Antifa as well as animal rights groups and others. Instead, right-wing terrorism should be seen as a label of convenience that lumps together various causes, including white supremacy, anti-LGBTQ movements, gun rights militants and hostility to the federal government. Some of these views are less radical than others and can be expressed in a peaceful manner—they are views that are held in part by millions on the “right” side of the American and European political spectrum in a legitimate way. It is when these ideas are taken together to a fanatical end by an aggressive few that the trouble begins.

The numbers might, however, be much higher than we know. Police in England and Wales recorded an almost 20 percent increase in 2017–2018, and this period is more than twice the figure in 2012–2013. Right-wing violence often stops short of murder, and vandalism, property damage and assault are often underreported. Beyond these factors, in the United States prosecutors often use drug or gun laws to go after domestic extremists suspected of being at risk of using violence because federal law does not designate violent domestic groups as terrorists.

The picture is also muddy in other countries. Russia, which has more right-wing terrorism than any other country, saw a decline in violence in recent years. Violence in Russia, which is primarily directed at migrants from Central Asia and the Caucasus, peaked at the end of the last decade.

What is clearer is that right-wing violence in the West is rising relative to Islamic extremism, the focus of governments since the 9/11 attacks. Over 70 percent of extremist attacks that resulted in fatalities from 2008 to 2017 were committed by right-wing groups, and, in 2018, jihadists killed only one person on U.S. soil, while right-wing violence led to sixteen deaths. A Europol report found the “violent right-wing extremist spectrum is expanding.” Europe saw an increase in arrests related to right-wing violence from 2016 to 2017 even as jihadist terrorism was falling there and becoming less sophisticated, though in Europe in 2017 jihadist attacks and violence were still far more common.

Policymakers are increasingly recognizing this danger. The 2018 U.S. “National Strategy for Counterterrorism” warns of an array of right-wing causes as well as traditional concerns about groups like the Islamic State. Former Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kirstjen Nielsen also sounded the alarm. European intelligence leaders are also warning of a greater threat, and many services are devoting greater resources to the threat of far-right terrorism.

TERRORISM, BY its very nature, is about more than just a body count. Terrorists seek to use violence to spread their message, shape politics and force their adversaries into self-defeating countermeasures. The Islamic State, for example, conducted the 2015 attacks in Paris that killed 130 people as a demonstration of its strength, hoping to punish and intimidate France and other enemies for their intervention in the Syrian Civil War and to attract recruits and funders. In addition, group leaders probably reasoned that a French crackdown at home might further alienate French Muslims and thus “prove” the Islamic State’s arguments that the West is deeply hostile to Islam.

Right-wing violence, although not bloodier than jihadist violence, may have even more political impact. In Europe, and especially in the United States, jihadist sentiment is not linked to mainstream politics. Some European Muslims might favor a caliphate or other radical ideas, but it is not a majority sentiment, even among this minority community. In the United States, such radical jihadist views are even rarer. Right-wing causes, in contrast, touch far deeper political nerves. The organizations are appealing to sentiments embedded in majority communities—in Europe, for example, the Pew Research Center found that majorities in Italy and Poland have unfavorable views of Muslims, and in many countries over 30 percent of the population would not accept a Muslim as a family member (the acceptance of Jews is only slightly higher). Majorities in Europe oppose more immigration. Hostile and vehemently right-wing rhetoric appears to stir up more radical figures in the movement. For example, according to a study by two professors of political science and a graduate student at the University of Texas, counties that hosted Trump rallies saw an over 200 percent jump in hate crimes.

Although many of the political groups that espouse these sentiments are nonviolent, terrorism highlights the issues and associates them with violence: some more mainstream figures denounce terrorism outright, but others do so with qualifications, praising the cause as a whole, blaming the victim community with what-aboutisms or otherwise tacitly condoning some of the violence. After the New Zealand attack, Australian senator Fraser Anning claimed that the problem was allowing “Muslim fanatics” to migrate in the first place. After the Charlottesville violence, President Donald Trump claimed there was “blame on both sides.”

RIGHT-WING terrorism is typically classified as “domestic” terrorism, distinguishing it from “international” terrorism that involves a group attacking either foreign targets on its home territory or crossing borders to attack in another country: picture the Islamic State’s 2015 attack in Paris or Saudi jihadists striking an American target in Saudi Arabia. This distinction has important legal, bureaucratic and resource consequences. The Federal Bureau of Investigation and state law enforcement focus on domestic groups, while the Central Intelligence Agency, National Security Agency and other national security actors take the lead on international groups. International terrorists might be on the receiving end of a drone strike, while domestic terrorists are more likely to face years in jail. For most of U.S. and European modern history, right-wing groups, with their xenophobia, seemed clearly within the domestic box as opposed to Marxist, Islamist or other causes that spanned, and even rejected, national borders.

Although many militia and other anti-government groups are still in this box, at least some white supremacists now fit many characteristics of international terrorism. Tarrant himself was Australian and traveled over 1,000 miles to attack in New Zealand. He embraced the need for violence after an Uzbek asylum seeker drove a truck into a crowd of people in Sweden in 2017, killing five, and donated to right-wing anti-immigrant movements in France and Austria. His manifesto referenced Trump among other global figures. He wrote the name of a Canadian man who attacked a mosque in Canada in 2017 on one of the guns used in the attack, and in his Facebook Live video, he listened to a mix that includes Serbian nationalist songs as he prepared for his shooting spree. 

The ideas, and the fears, of extremists like Tarrant are more global than ever. Some of the concerns are longstanding, such as the never-ending fear of Jewish world domination. Over a hundred years ago, the Russian Tsar’s secret service forged the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, which purported to reveal such a Jewish grand design—a forgery that never seems to die. Now fears of migration, especially Muslim migration, have vaulted near or at the top of the list. Jews are not off the hook: they are supposedly at the core of a “cultural Marxism” that seeks to undermine the traditional Christian West by spreading racial mixing, homosexuality and feminism while importing dangerous foreigners to wreak havoc.

The script written by Anders Behring Breivik, who killed seventy-seven people, mostly youths at a camp for a left-leaning political party, in two dramatic attacks in Norway in 2011, is emerging as a rough blueprint for white supremacists worldwide. Breivik, like Tarrant, posted a “manifesto” that decried the alleged misdeeds of Muslims, liberals and others before the attack. Extremism expert J.M. Berger reports Christopher P. Hasson, a Coast Guard officer, carefully followed Breivik’s script when he stockpiled guns as part of a plot to target journalists and politicians.

In addition to looking globally for inspiration, some groups are seeking to forge more organizational connections across borders. Atomwaffen Division, an extremist American group that calls for a race war and has attracted members in the U.S. military, has established a chapter in Germany and has ties to the Sonnenkrieg Division, which has members in the United Kingdom and Eastern Europe. Members of the British group National Action have ties to similar organizations in Germany, Scandinavia and the Baltics.

TERRORIST GROUPS of all sorts use the Internet to communicate with followers, spread propaganda, harass their enemies and coordinate operations. In recent years, Twitter, Facebook, YouTube and other companies have made impressive gains against the virtual presence of the Islamic State and other designated groups, removing much of their propaganda and otherwise hindering their online efforts and driving them to less popular (and thus less useful) platforms like Telegram.

Internet companies, however, have a different standard for white supremacist and other right-wing content. It is politically, and legally, easier for firms to act against terrorist groups designated by governments like the United States than it is to go after right-wing organizations that are hateful and prone to violence but still legal. From a technical point of view, the companies’ artificial intelligence algorithms are less focused on white supremacist content, with less data and less “training” to take it down automatically. YouTube, for example, still hosts a large amount of white supremacist, neo-Nazi and other hateful content on its platform. Much of this is because of the linkages between legitimate right-wing politics and more extreme voices: Silicon Valley firms are already regularly criticized for “bias” against conservatives, and acting against white nationalists would also lead to the takedown of some content from right-wing politicians. Republican Congressman Steve King, for example, has repeatedly tweeted out content from white nationalist accounts. Taking similar steps against jihadist-linked content is far less controversial.

The ability of right-wing groups to exploit social media has helped them expand their global presence and led to a melding of agendas from different countries. They can easily interact with like-minded bigots from other countries and view online propaganda about the crimes of Muslim migrants, the need to defend white communities and so on. In addition, countries like Russia can use social media troll farms to exacerbate divisions and otherwise play up the fears of right-wing audiences.

EVEN BY the standards of violent and radical movements, right-wing groups have many weaknesses. The groups themselves are inchoate. One of the driving factors behind the recent proliferation of hate groups is that the movement itself is divided, so no single group is capitalizing on the movement’s recent energy. Many of the groups lack formal members, a clear command structure or other means of ensuring a common set of objectives that would prioritize their actions, and other necessary conditions for group effectiveness. It would be more troubling, in fact, if there were fewer groups because the organizations consolidated and their membership surged.

Russian support, too, has its limits. Moscow seeks chaos and weakness in the West. It does not control these groups, but rather views them as pawns for weakening its foes. Such support still helps white supremacists and others, but it suggests Moscow’s commitment to these groups and causes is not strong.

Many members of the movement are low-level criminals or are otherwise in the cross-hairs of law enforcement. In an examination of radicalization in the United States, the University of Maryland’s National Consortium for the Study of Terrorism and Responses to Terrorism found that over half of right-wing terrorists in the United States had a pre-radicalization criminal history, in contrast to only a third of jihadists. This puts them on the radar screen of police and makes them vulnerable to government efforts to “turn” them by threatening to imprison them for more traditional crimes. It also discredits them in many local communities, whose members are aware of their violent and criminal sides and see it as tarnishing the cause as a whole.

Perhaps most importantly, the right-wing organizations have benefited from a permissive social media and law enforcement environment, with attention focusing on jihadist groups in particular. As a result, much of their recruiting and fundraising is done semi-openly, and many of the individuals have little sense of operational security in comparison with their jihadist counterparts. Should law enforcement seek to crush them, it would be devastating.

THE RIGHT-wing terrorism challenge is considerable, but the good news is that a few basic measures can move the needle considerably.

A first step is simply data gathering to better understand what the trends are in right-wing terrorism. In the United States, the federal government should require reporting from state and local officials, and other countries should do the same. Criteria should be harmonized to ensure consistent reporting and to allow comparisons. Data must be transparent, allowing community organizations and civil society to weigh in, and help improve collection through their criticism.

Groups like Atomwaffen that have an international component can be designated as foreign terrorist organizations (FTO). As Mary McCord and Jason Blazakis argued in Lawfare, “the designation of an organization as an FTO means that providing material support or resources (defined to include tangible or intangible property or services) to an FTO is itself a federal crime.” The Justice Department has used a “material support” charge more than four hundred times since 9/11. Whether a violent group’s “foreign” linkage is to Nazism or to jihadism should not matter. When prosecutors can target “material support,” however, even small financial or other forms of assistance to a group become reasons for action, making it far more likely such white supremacists would be brought before a judge and the movement as a whole disrupted.

A next step to consider is a list of domestic organizations that could be classified as terrorist groups. Hasson, for example, was not charged with terrorism but rather drug and gun charges—and was released before trial in part because, as the judge noted, there was no specific charge given that suggested he was a risk to the public despite what seems like a dangerous track record. Designating domestic groups is trickier than doing so for foreign ones, as free speech protection requires allowing hateful, but peaceful, speech. However, a list of violent organizations (not just groups that espouse hateful ideals) identified by respected civil society organizations, perhaps operating in a consortium, would go far in helping separate legitimate discourse from groups that flirt with radical violence. In addition, it would be a forcing function for mainstream groups, requiring them to distance themselves from those on the wrong side of the line, and a useful marker for social media companies deciding on which content to permit.

Although in the post-9/11 world the Justice Department has focused its use of the material support charge on jihadist groups, it could also be used against domestic ones. As Trevor Aaronson argues, the law allows prosecutors to go after domestic terrorists, as long as the crime involves one of roughly fifty crimes, ranging from hostage taking to targeting U.S. government employees. There are limits when compared with international terrorism—you cannot use material support for a mass shooting of people who are not government employees, for example. Nevertheless, the potential power is tremendous.

One of the big successes in counterterrorism against jihadist groups is intelligence sharing. Allied governments work together to identify suspected terrorists, block their travel, hinder recruitment efforts, share evidence and otherwise collaborate on potential threats. Right-wing violence, however, is less a subject of international cooperation because of its traditional domestic-only nature. As right-wing extremists have become more international, the potential benefits of international cooperation are growing. 

Just as mainstream Islamist and Muslim organizations are important bulwarks against jihadist terrorism, so too are mainstream right-wing organizations. But this position comes with responsibility. Such groups should actively cooperate with law enforcement, seeking to marginalize radical violence and identify potential violent members so they can be disrupted before they attack. They should vehemently condemn any violence that does occur and, through their cooperation with any investigation, emphasize that they stand with the forces of order.

Internet companies also need to treat right-violence violence in ways similar to what they do for jihadist violence. Big social media companies like Facebook, in particular, have a responsibility given their size and market position. Some of this involves “training” their artificial intelligence algorithms on data linked to right-wing violence, but it also requires penalizing and removing users who promote white supremacism and other dangerous ideologies, just as they would take down content linked to the Islamic State. As Clare Ellis and Raffaello Pantucci of the Royal United Services Institute for Defence and Security Studies have found, extreme-right-wing groups are particularly vulnerable, with their members far more likely to post damaging information online when compared with other groups.

The United States also needs to call out Russia. This may seem improbable given Trump’s apparent affection for Russian president Vladimir Putin, but congressional leaders and other public figures should highlight Russian interference and also try to shame domestic groups that benefit from Russian ties. They should also authorize more resources to track and block Russian meddling.

Unfortunately, the incentives for demagogues to whip up anti-Muslim and anti-migrant sentiment are high, and they have succeeded in convincing large parts of the population that terrorism and crime associated with these communities are far greater than they are. This hatred adds to existing racism, anti-Semitism and social divides, creating a toxic mix. So the politics problem will not go away. One way to reduce this, however, is to prioritize stopping right-wing terrorism as we do jihadist violence. Effective policing and intelligence, in addition to the measures recommended above, can undermine white nationalist and other groups, reducing the potency of their message and making them less able to use violence. By disrupting right-wing, jihadist and other forms of violence, popular fears will decline (though hardly abate) and ambitious politicians will turn to other, hopefully less dangerous, ways to win support.

Daniel Byman is a professor and vice dean at Georgetown University’s Edmund A. Walsh School of Foreign Service and a senior fellow at the Brookings Institution’s Center for Middle East Policy. His book Road Warriors: Foreign Fighters in the Armies of Jihad was published by Oxford University Press in June.

Image: Reuters

This story was originally published in June 2019.