U.S. is just now catching up
During the past two years, U.S. counterterrorism officials held meetings with their European counterparts to discuss an emerging threat: right-wing terror groups becoming increasingly global in their reach.
American neo-Nazis were traveling to train and fight with militias in the Ukraine. There were suspected links between U.S. extremists and the Russian Imperial Movement, a white supremacist group that was training foreigners in its St. Petersburg compounds. A gunman accused of killing 23 people at an El Paso Walmart in 2019 had denounced a “Hispanic invasion” and praised a white supremacist who killed 51 people at mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand, and who had been inspired by violent American and Italian racists.
But the efforts to improve transatlantic cooperation against the threat ran into a recurring obstacle. During talks and communications, senior Trump administration officials steadfastly refused to use the term “right-wing terrorism,” causing disputes and confusion with the Europeans, who routinely use the phrase, current and former European and U.S. officials told ProPublica. Instead, the FBI and Department of Homeland Security referred to “racially or ethnically motivated violent extremism,” while the State Department chose “racially or ethnically motivated terrorism.”
“We did have problems with the Europeans,” one national security official said. “They call it right-wing terrorism and they were angry that we didn’t. There was a real aversion to using that term on the U.S. side. The aversion came from political appointees in the Trump administration. We very quickly realized that if people talked about right-wing terrorism, it was a nonstarter with them.”
The U.S. response to the globalization of the far-right threat has been slow, scattered and politicized, U.S. and European counterterrorism veterans and experts say. Whistleblowers and other critics have accused DHS leaders of downplaying the threat of white supremacy and slashing a unit dedicated to fighting domestic extremism. DHS has denied those accusations.
In 2019, a top FBI official told Congress the agency devoted only about 20% of its counterterrorism resources to the domestic threat. Nonetheless, some FBI field offices focus primarily on domestic terrorism.
Former counterterrorism officials said the former president’s politics made their job harder. The disagreement over what to call the extremists was part of a larger concern about whether the administration was committed to fighting the threat.
“The rhetoric at the White House, anybody watching the rhetoric of the president, this was discouraging people in government from speaking out,” said Jason Blazakis, who ran a State Department counterterrorism unit from 2008 to 2018. “The president and his minions were focused on other threats.”
Other former officials disagreed. Federal agencies avoided the term “right-wing terrorism” because they didn’t want to give extremists legitimacy by placing them on the political spectrum, or to fuel the United States’ intense polarization, said Christopher K. Harnisch, the former deputy coordinator for countering violent extremism in the State Department’s counterterrorism bureau. Some causes espoused by white supremacists, such as using violence to protect the environment, are not regarded as traditionally rightwing ideology, said Harnisch, who stepped down in January.
“The most important point is that the Europeans and the U.S. were talking about the same people,” he said. “It hasn’t hindered our cooperation at all.”
As for the wider criticism of the Trump administration, Harnisch said: “In our work at the State Department, we never faced one scintilla of opposition from the White House about taking on white supremacy. I can tell you that the White House was entirely supportive.”
The State Department focused mostly on foreign extremist movements, but it examined some of their links to U.S. groups as well.
There was clearly progress on some fronts. The State Department took a historic step in April by designating the Russian Imperial Movement and three of its leaders as terrorists, saying that the group’s trainees included Swedish extremists who carried out bombing attacks on refugees. It was the first such U.S. designation of a far-right terrorist group.
With Trump now out of office, Europeans and Americans expect improved cooperation against right-wing terrorists. Like the Islamist threat, it is becoming clear that the far-right threat is international. In December, a French computer programmer committed suicide after giving hundreds of thousands of dollars to U.S. extremist causes. The recipients included a neo-Nazi news website.
Federal agencies are investigating, but it is not yet clear whether anything about the transaction was illegal, officials said.
“It’s like a transatlantic thing now,” said a European counterterror chief, describing American conspiracy theories that surface in the chatter he tracks. “Europe is taking ideology from U.S. groups and vice versa.”
The Crackdown
International alliances make extremist groups more dangerous, but also create vulnerabilities that law enforcement could exploit.
Laws in Europe and Canada allow authorities to outlaw domestic extremist groups and conduct aggressive surveillance of suspected members. America’s civil liberties laws, which trace to the Constitution’s guarantee of free speech spelled out in the First Amendment, are far less expansive. The FBI and other agencies have considerably more authority to investigate U.S. individuals and groups if they develop ties with foreign terror organizations. So far, those legal tools have gone largely unused in relation to rightwing extremism, experts say.
To catch up to the fast-spreading threat at home and abroad, Blazakis said, the U.S. should designate more foreign organizations as terrorist entities, especially ones that allied nations have already outlawed.
A recent case reflects the kind of strategy Blazakis and others have in mind. During the riots last May after the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis, FBI agents got a tip that two members of the anti-government movement known as the Boogaloo Bois had armed themselves, according to court papers.
The suspects were talking about killing police officers and attacking a National Guard armory to steal heavy weapons, the court papers allege. The FBI deployed an undercover informant who posed as a member of Hamas, the Palestinian terrorist group, and offered to help the suspects obtain explosives and training. After the suspects started talking about a plot to attack a courthouse, agents arrested them, according to the court papers. In September, prosecutors filed charges of conspiring and attempting to provide material support to a foreign terrorist organization, which can bring a sentence of up to 20 years in prison. One of the defendants pleaded guilty in December. The other still faces charges.
If the U.S. intelligence community starts using its vast resources to gather information on rightwing movements in other countries, it will find more linkages to groups in the United States, Blazakis and other experts predicted. Rather than resorting to a sting, authorities could charge American extremists for engaging in propaganda activity, financing, training or participating in other actions with foreign counterparts.
A crackdown would bring risks, however. After the assault on the Capitol, calls for bringing tougher laws and tactics to bear against suspected domestic extremists revived fears about civil liberties similar to those raised by Muslim and human rights organizations during the Bush administration’s “war on terror.” An excessive response could give the impression that authorities are criminalizing political views, which could worsen radicalization among right-wing groups and individuals for whom suspicion of government is a core tenet.
“You will hit a brick wall of privacy and civil liberties concerns very quickly,” said Seamus Hughes, a former counterterrorism official who is now deputy director of the Program on Extremism at George Washington University. He said the federal response should avoid feeding into “the already existing grievance of government overreach. The goal should be marginalization.”
In recent years, civil liberties groups have warned against responding to the rise in domestic extremism with harsh new laws.
“Some lawmakers are rushing to give law enforcement agencies harmful additional powers and creating new crimes,” wrote Hina Shamsi, the director of the ACLU’s national security project, in a statement by the organization about congressional hearings on the issue in 2019. “That approach ignores the way power, racism, and national security laws work in America. It will harm the communities of color that white supremacist violence targets — and undermine the constitutional rights that protect all of us.”
The Pivot Problem
There is also an understandable structural problem. Since the Sept.
11 attacks in 2001, intelligence and law enforcement agencies have
dedicated themselves to the relentless pursuit of al-Qaida, the Islamic
State, Iran and other Islamist foes.
Now
the counterterrorism apparatus has to shift its aim to a new menace,
one that is more opaque and diffuse than Islamist networks, experts
said.
It will be like
turning around an aircraft carrier, said Blazakis, the former State
Department counterterrorism official, who is now a professor at the
Middlebury Institute of International Studies.
“The
U.S. government is super slow to pivot to new threats,” Blazakis said.
“There is a reluctance to shift resources to new targets. And there was a
politicization of intelligence during the Trump administration. There
was a fear to speak out.”
Despite
periodic resistance and generalized disorder during the Trump
administration, some agencies advanced on their own, officials said.
European counterterror officials say the FBI has become increasingly
active in sharing and requesting intelligence about right-wing
extremists overseas.
A
European counterterror chief described recent conversations with U.S.
agents about Americans attending neo-Nazi rallies and concerts in Europe
and traveling to join the Azov Battalion, an ultranationalist Ukrainian
militia fighting Russian-backed separatists. About 17,000 fighters from
50 countries, including at least 35 Americans, have traveled to the
Ukrainian conflict zone, where they join units on both sides, according
to one study. The fighting in the Donbass region offers them training,
combat experience, international contacts and a sense of themselves as
warriors, a theater reminiscent of Syria or Afghanistan for jihadis.
“The
far right was not a priority for a long time,” the European
counterterror chief said. “Now they are saying it’s a real threat for
all our societies. Now they are seeing we have to handle it like Islamic
terrorism. Now that we are sharing and we have a bigger picture, we see
it’s really international, not domestic.”
Galvanized
The
Jan. 6 assault on Congress signaled the start of a new era, experts
said. The convergence of a mix of extremist groups and activists
solidified the idea that the farright threat has overtaken the Islamist
threat in the United States, and that the government has to change
policies and shift resources accordingly. Experts predict that the Biden
administration will make global right-wing extremism a top
counterterrorism priority.
“This
is on the rise and has gotten from nowhere on the radar to very intense
in a couple of years,” a U.S. national security official said. “It is
hard to see how it doesn’t continue. It will be a lot easier for U.S.
officials to get concerned where there is a strong U.S.
angle.”
A
previous spike in domestic terrorism took place in the 1990s, an era of
violent clashes between U.S. law enforcement agencies and extremists.
In 1992, an FBI sniper gunned down the wife of a white supremacist
during an armed standoff in Ruby Ridge, Idaho. The next year, four
federal agents died in a raid on heavily armed members of a cult in
Waco, Texas; the ensuing standoff at the compound ended in a fire that
killed 76 people. Both sieges played a role in the radicalization of the
anti-government terrorists who blew up the Oklahoma City federal
building in 1995, killing 168 people, including children in a day care
center for federal employees. Oklahoma City remains the deadliest
terrorist act on U.S. soil aside from the Sept. 11 attacks.
The
rise of al-Qaida in 2001 transformed the counterterrorism landscape,
spawning new laws and government agencies and a worldwide campaign by
intelligence agencies, law enforcement and the military. Despite
subsequent plots and occasionally successful attacks involving one or
two militants, stronger U.S. defenses and limited radicalization among
American Muslims prevented Islamist networks from hitting the United
States with the kind of well-trained, remotely directed teams that
carried out mass casualty strikes in London in 2005, Mumbai in 2008 and
Paris in 2015.
During
the past decade, domestic terrorism surged in the United States. Some of
the activity was on the political left, such as the gunman who opened
fire at a baseball field in Virginia in 2017. The attack critically
wounded Rep. Steve Scalise, a Republican legislator from Louisiana who
was the House Majority whip, as well as a Capitol Police officer
guarding him and four others.
But
many indicators show that far-right extremism is deadlier. Right-wing
attacks and plots accounted for the majority of all terrorist incidents
in the country between 1994 and 2020, according to a study by the Center
for Strategic and International Studies. The Anti-Defamation League
reported in 2018 that right-wing terrorists were responsible for more
than three times as many deaths as Islamists during the previous decade.
“There
have been more arrests and deaths in the United States caused by
domestic terrorists than international terrorists in recent years,” said
Michael McGarrity, then the counterterrorism chief of the FBI, in
congressional testimony in 2019. “Individuals affiliated with
racially-motivated violent extremism are responsible for the most lethal
and violent activity.”
During
the same testimony, McGarrity said the FBI dedicated only about 20% of
its counterterrorism resources to the domestic threat. The imbalance,
experts say, was partly a lingering result of the global offensive by
the Islamic State, whose power peaked in the middle of the decade.
Another reason: Laws and rules instituted in the 1970s after FBI spying
scandals make it much harder to monitor, investigate and prosecute
Americans suspected of domestic extremism.
The Trump Administration and the Europeans
Critics
say the Trump administration was reluctant to take on right-wing
extremism. The former president set the tone with his public statements
about the violent Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, in
2017, they say, and with his call last year telling the far-right Proud
Boys group to “stand back and stand by.”
Still,
various agencies increased their focus on the issue because of a
drumbeat of attacks at home — notably the murders of 11 people at a
synagogue in Pittsburgh in 2018 — and overseas. The Christchurch
massacre of worshippers at mosques in New Zealand in March 2019 caught
the attention of American officials. It was a portrait of the
globalization of rightwing terrorism.
Brenton
Tarrant, the 29-yearold Australian who livestreamed his attack, had
traveled extensively in Europe, visiting sites he saw as part of a
struggle between Christianity and Islam. In his manifesto, he cited the
writings of a French ideologue and of Dylann Roof, an American who
killed nine people at a predominantly Black church in South Carolina in
2015. While driving to the mosques, Tarrant played an ode to Serbian
nationalist fighters of the Balkan wars on his car radio. And he carried
an assault rifle on which he had scrawled the name of an Italian gunman
who had shot African immigrants in a rampage the year before.
Christchurch
was “part of a wave of violent incidents worldwide, the perpetrators of
which were part of similar transnational online communities and took
inspiration from one another,” said a report last year by Europol, an
agency that coordinates law enforcement across Europe. The report
described English as “the lingua franca of a transnational right-wing
extremist community.”
With
its long tradition of political terrorism on both extremes, Europe has
also suffered a spike in right-wing violence. Much of it is a backlash
to immigration in general and Muslim communities in particular.
Responding to assassinations of politicians and other attacks, Germany
and the United Kingdom have outlawed several organizations.
Closer
to home, Canada has banned two neo-Nazi groups, Blood and Honour and
Combat 18, making it possible to charge people for even possessing their
paraphernalia or attending their events. Concerts and sales of video
games, T-shirts and other items have become a prime source of
international financing for rightwing movements, the European
counterterror chief said.
During
the past two years, officials at the FBI, DHS, State Department and
other agencies tried to capitalize on the deeper expertise of European
governments and improve transatlantic cooperation against right-wing
extremism. Legal and cultural differences complicated the process,
American and European officials said. A lack of order and cohesion in
the U.S. national security community was another factor, they said.
“There
was so little organization to the U.S. counterterrorism community that
everybody decided for themselves what they would do,” a U.S. national
security official said. “It was not the type of centrally controlled
effort that would happen in other administrations.”
As
a result, the U.S. government has sometimes been slow to respond to
European requests for legal assistance and information-sharing about
far-right extremism, said Eric Rosand, who served as a State Department
counterterrorism official during the Obama administration.
“U.S.-European
cooperation on addressing white supremacist and other far-right
terrorism has been ad hoc and hobbled by a disjointed and inconsistent
U.S. government approach,” Rosand said.
The
semantic differences about what to call the threat didn’t help,
according to Rosand and other critics. They say the Trump administration
was averse to using the phrase “right-wing terrorism” because some
groups on that part of the ideological spectrum supported the president.
“It
highlights the disconnect,” Rosand said. “They were saying they didn’t
want to suggest the terrorism is linked to politics. They didn’t want to
politicize it. But if you don’t call it what it is because of concerns
of how it might play with certain political consistencies, that
politicizes it.”
Harnisch,
the former deputy coordinator at the State Department counterterrorism
bureau, rejected the criticism. He said cooperation with Europeans on
the issue was “relatively nascent,” but that there had been concrete
achievements.
“I think
we laid a strong foundation, and I think the Biden administration will
build on it,” Harnisch said. “From my perspective, we made significant
progress on this threat within the Trump administration.”