The horrific violence perpetrated by white supremacists in Charlottesville shattered the false dichotomy that had, since 9/11, caused the media and public in general to treat acts of domestic terrorism by white supremacist groups as categorically distinct from attacks connected to foreign-based terror organizations.
For over a decade now, when a white supremacist committed an act of terrorism, for example when Dylann Roof murdered nine African Americans in South Carolina, coverage focused on the individual, often characterizing the perpetrator as a mentally unstable lone wolf. But in situations where there was a connection to a foreign terrorist organization, when a married couple killed 14 people in San Bernardino for instance, public commentary emphasized the organizational roots of the attack.
As a result of this differentiated treatment, we systematically underestimated the dangers posed by hate groups in the United States. Charlottesville brought to the fore irrefutable proof that the parallels between American hate groups and foreign terrorist organizations far exceed the differences.
In truth, these parallels have long been clear. The victims and targets of white supremacist groups have always known and experienced these hate groups as terrorist organizations. Academics and counterterrorism professionals have for decades now included white supremacist groups in their studies.
In his seminal work, Inside Terrorism (first published in 1998), Bruce Hoffman, one of the world’s foremost experts on terrorism, dedicated significant attention to American white supremacist militias. In his work, Hoffman points to Timothy McVeigh and the Oklahoma City bombing – the largest domestic terrorist attack in America’s history – as fitting within a global pattern of increased activity by religiously motivated extremist movements.
The unimaginable horror of the attacks of 9/11 and the ensuing wars in Afghanistan and Iraq quickly and powerfully altered America’s conception of terrorism. It became imperative to analyze, understand and defeat large and complex foreign terror networks and “terrorism” became associated exclusively with groups such as al-Qaida and the Haqqani network in Afghanistan. But the parallels between white supremacist groups and foreign terrorist organizations never went away.
Those who marched through Charlottesville chanting the Nazi slogan “blood and soil” were products of a radicalization process used by terrorist groups across the world. As J.M. Berger, fellow at the International Centre for Counter Terrorism in The Hague stated in a recent article by Julia Ioffe in the Atlantic, “The process and structure of radicalization and extremism are the same in different kinds of movements, even when the content of the extremist belief is different (such as with neo-Nazis and jihadists).”
A person undergoing radicalization crosses thresholds after which he or she recognizes as friends or allies an increasingly narrow array of people and feels responsive to an ever-shrinking set of values, with loyalty to the cause gaining primacy.
Daniel Koehler, senior fellow at George Washington University’s Program on Extremism and the founder of the German Institute on Radicalization and De-Radicalization Studies, in the same Atlantic article referred to this process as “de-pluralization.” The end result, as tragically revealed in Virginia, is an individual willing and even eager to use violence to advance his or her cause.
So now that the parallels are clear, what do we do? There are important actions for our criminal justice and law enforcement agencies; but because we are talking about American citizens protected by our Constitution and Bill of Rights, our response as the general public will be more determinative to this effort to counter and eliminate domestic terrorism.
Recognition and condemnation are the first and easiest steps we can take. With greater public recognition that white supremacist organizations are domestic terrorist organizations that methodically radicalize people so as to harness violence as a tool toward a political end – the subjugation of non-white people – we can make security and community investments to counter and disrupt the radicalization process.
Similarly, by publicly and unequivocally condemning these groups and their pathologies of hate, we reinforce a powerful cultural norm that deters people who might otherwise be tempted down the path of radicalization.
Equivocation, such as that displayed by President Trump in the aftermath of Charlottesville, empowers white supremacist groups by normalizing their beliefs and giving tacit permission for those on the edge to walk closer into the fold of groups fueled by bigotry.
But we can do more than just recognize and condemn radicalization; we can actively celebrate its opposite. If radicalization is an extreme narrowing in one’s conception of the American identity, then let us commit ourselves toward expanding how we describe our nation so as to encompass an ever-more diverse array of backgrounds, perspectives and experiences.
In doing so we would be in keeping with the true character of the American experience, which is one of pluralization. Our Constitution, though ushered into existence tarnished by slavery, compels us to make more meaningful our founding ideals of freedom, justice and dignity for all people.
I recently had the opportunity to see how we might do this in practice. About 48 hours after the attacks in Charlottesville I joined the West Point class of 2021 for the 12-mile foot march culminating basic training. (West Point graduates have been allowed to join the march back since 1999 and the event now brings together hundreds of alumni from classes going back more than 50 years.)
Over the course of the march the young cadets opened up and talked about where they were from, why they had wanted to go to West Point and what they were most excited to do once they finished training. There was a rich assembly of stories, each revealing a tremendous depth of strength and character; but what was most striking was how these young women and men had grown into a team. It was so clear from their behavior – the way they made sure no one got left behind when we hit steep inclines, the inside jokes they traded when the terrain was flat, and the commonalities in how they spoke about public service – that they had forged an identity as a unit.
Their individual stories had not disappeared, and in fact were told with great clarity and confidence; but rather they had formed a new identity, one that wove together the unique journeys that brought each person to West Point, strengthening the bonds between them and fostering a shared commitment to each other and to our nation’s values.
Although the military is a unique institution, we can make this kind of experience more common in America. We can put ourselves in spaces where we are uncomfortable, we can go into unfamiliar environments and talk with people whose perspectives and experiences are different from our own. By bringing more people’s stories into our own conception of what constitutes the American identity and by reaffirming a belief in our common ideals, we can restore and strengthen a civic faith immune to radicalization.
(Dan Vallone is a West Point graduate who served six years on active duty as an infantry officer. He lives in Concord.)