CW: Violence
From the outset, the 2020 US election results elicited apprehension, with whispers circulated on the possibility of violent clashes. However, the overwhelming majority would probably never have foreseen just how detrimental such backlash could be. The January 6 Insurrection, which culminated in the storming of the United States Capitol Building by far-right groups, was termed by FBI Director Christopher Wray as an act of “domestic terrorism”. The Insurrection demonstrated not only the fragility of democracy but also cautioned against misguided beliefs that far-right extremism could never penetrate western democracies.
This article will observe the rise of far-right extremism in Australia and consider the possibility of similar acts being committed domestically. Although various forms of extremism may be regarded as “far-right” in nature, this article aims to consider ideologies associated with white supremacy, neo-Nazism and neo-Fascism.
It has been identified that a significant majority of individuals who subscribe to these ideologies are, on average, around 25 years old and overwhelmingly male. Although motivations may differ, they largely involve a fear of societal collapse or a specific social or economic grievance or conspiracy. This supposed ‘fear’ is attributed to the existence of the ‘other’, who are blamed for actual or perceived social/economic issues. In Australia, this has been largely manifested through Islamophobia and anti-immigrant movements.
Early last year, ASIO Chief Mike Burgess warned how “the extreme right-wing threat is real and … growing” in Australia. Although the chances of knife, gun or vehicle attacks were said to be low, ASIO did not rule out the possibility of more sophisticated attacks being orchestrated. Since that time, far-right extremism investigations have grown from 30 to 40 per cent of ASIO’s total caseload. Statistically, this suggests that Australia may be at a much higher risk of facing a far-right terrorist attack than in previous years. The possibility was exhibited in December 2020, when an 18-year-old NSW teenager with links to neo-Nazism and white supremacy was arrested and charged with “encouraging a mass casualty terrorist attack”, with police alleging that he had accessed bomb-making instructional materials online.
We may be familiar with images of aggressive-looking individuals, often carrying Australian flags as a sign of their ostensible patriotism, whilst unapologetically pulling the Nazi salute. Almost sardonically, however, Mr Burgess rejected the image of “skinheads with swastika tattoos and jackboots roaming the backstreets like extras from Romper Stomper”. But what’s concerning is that because far-right extremism is largely no longer manifested through such clichéd imagery, institutions and the mainstream public may fall into a cycle of complacency.
New Zealand’s Royal Commission into the Terrorist Attack on Christchurch Mosques found the very same. Although it was concluded by the Royal Commission that there was “no plausible way [Brentan Tarrant] could have been detected except by chance”, given his relatively secluded lifestyle, communities in New Zealand perceived that “counter-terrorism effort[s] has been focused exclusively on Islamist extremist terrorism, and…this is not unique to New Zealand.” The Commission also heard from some people more broadly about their frustration that concerns they raised about the rise of right-wing extremism and Islamophobia in recent years were not acted on.
It must be reiterated that these sentiments are not unique to New Zealand. In Australia, true efforts to counter the rise of far-right extremism have been hijacked by party politicking and word-plays. Despite ASIO’s warnings, the then Home Affairs Minister Peter Dutton rejected calls to differentiate between different forms of extremism, labelling such distinctions as “silly, stupid and petty”. Similarly, prior to the 2019 Federal elections, Nationals leader Michael McCormack contended that the decision to preference Pauline Hanson’s One Nation Party above Labor and the Greens stemmed from the fact that they were more aligned with the far-right party. Regretfully, it appears that even at the highest levels of politics, there is an inclination to associate terrorism with the ‘other’, represented by images of militants crossing state borders to commit attacks on Australian soil.
What can be gleaned from this is perhaps negligence, but also potentially willful blindness to the rising power of far-right groups. It isn’t difficult to draw parallels between these and former US President Donald Trump’s refusal in the first presidential debate to explicitly condemn white supremacist and neo-Nazi groups. These actions provide legitimacy to far-right ideologies. It would also not be a far stretch to view these as an attempt to incorporate what would otherwise be classified as fringe elements into the mainstream.
Further exacerbating this is the absence of formal monitoring systems for violence motivated by far-right ideology. In particular, experts have emphasised the pressing need for a properly resourced and maintained open registry of hate crimes and incidents, rather than the incomplete collections that currently exist. The under-allocation of resources and attention also drifts to the online sphere. Several participants in the New Zealand Commission commented that “counter-terrorism agencies had failed to monitor the online posts of the individual and other people or groups with extreme right-wing views and they felt this failure allowed the attack on 15 March 2019 to occur.”
A study commissioned by the German foreign ministry demonstrated that COVID-19 had enabled far-right groups to expand their operations globally, including enabling international organisations to undertake radicalisation activities in Australia. There are concerns that new forms of far-movements that have emerged in recent years are “leaderless, transnational, apocalyptic and oriented towards violence”, and certainly, the increased capabilities of technology have facilitated recruitment beyond state borders. In March 2021, it was found that four neo-Nazi groups which are banned in Europe and North America were also operating in Australia, largely using online platforms and encrypted messaging services.
The Australian Federal Police’s current stance is that it is actual criminality and intentions to commit criminal acts which are subject to liability, and ideology is not. However, hate speech on online platforms do not exist in a vacuum and can inspire and provoke violent acts. It may not necessarily be as overt as in the case of the US Capitol riots, in which the actual planning of the attacks was facilitated on public websites. Rather, there may be propaganda material and indoctrination on the supposed harms caused by the ‘other’, as evident in the National Socialist Network’s website.
This brings up a difficult question. At what point should ideological discourse be considered criminality? Should the possibility of such discourse inspiring acts of domestic terrorism be taken into account, or should authorities only deal in known variables, such as knowledge of an impending act of terrorism? These are difficult questions to answer and ones that only tend to inspire more questions.
What is certain is that there must be an appropriate balance between civil liberties and police intervention. This balance between avoiding undue censorship and calling out hate speech that may transform into violence will be difficult to reach. Any solution must be reached through a collaborative and multifactorial approach, with input from both governmental and community organisations. For now, Australia should exercise caution and not regard this as a form of extremism which they are more comfortable with compared to others.
