Ever since anti-immigration rioters struck sites in 27 towns and cities across the United Kingdom over the summer, far-right extremism has become a widely talked about issue. The riots were driven by rising Islamophobia following a stabbing in Southport on 29 July, which left three children dead. Spurred on by disinformation (an integral radicalisation tactic) about the identity of the alleged killer – that the 17-year-old was a Muslim immigrant – far-right rioters set fire to mosques and hotels housing asylum seekers. More than 1280 arrests followed as Prime Minister Keir Starmer clamped down on what he called “far-right thuggery”. 

Riots like these are the result of more than a decade of rising tensions in the UK, helped on by a Conservative government that not only did little to combat coarsening right-wing rhetoric but also introduced policies that implicitly endorsed the anti-immigrant, pro-white sentiment that underpins extreme-right ideology. 

The Conservative Party embraces far-right positions on immigration and welfare, but its voters are unlikely to partake in organised violent activism, instead trusting in the electoral process to express their beliefs. 

Far-right supporters are less anxious about being explicit. They want to restrict future immigration and often support Conservative Party projects like the deportation of asylum seekers to Rwanda. 

Some of them also consider real-world violence a legitimate form of “political activism”. Often this violence stems from a frustration with the voting system, and the belief that they have been “left behind” – jobless, loveless and displaced – in a modern democracy. (Lancaster University senior lecturer Aaron Winter however criticises the use of the term “left behind” for its reinforcing of a white victim complex that underpins these dangerous ideologies.) 

Right-wing voters largely do not want to be associated with far-right extremism – often they perceive it as working-class thuggery – and yet they continue to perpetuate the beliefs that lead to this violence. In turn, far-right extremists might feel disillusioned by the politicians who, despite spouting right-wing rhetoric, are not radical enough in their actions. This leads to dissatisfaction among both groups as politicians and parties try to appeal to voters they don’t particularly like, leaving space for forces like Nigel Farage’s Reform UK to brand themselves as the party of the people. 

In Britain, groups like the English Defence League (EDL) – now formally disbanded – have occupied a space in the cultural zeitgeist since around 2010. First gaining traction in 2009, they boosted their membership by organising rallies across the country largely in opposition to Islamic extremism. The EDL’s leader, Tommy Robinson, quickly became the face of the far right in the UK, in equal measure being invited on talk shows and getting arrested for hate speech. 

The government’s strategy for counter-extremism hinges on Prevent, a programme designed to “reduce the risk from terrorism to the UK”, largely through preventative measures. This introduced a concept that now informs most European counter-terrorism programmes: the “home-grown terrorist” – essentially a citizen radicalised on home soil. To combat this, Prevent sets out guidelines across public institutions like policing, education, and healthcare to detect and intercept potential radicals before they fall too far down the rabbit hole.  

Statistics show that extremism is on the rise in the UK. Referrals to Prevent between April 2022 and March 2023 totalled 6406, a 30 per cent increase on the year before. Twenty per cent of these referrals were for extreme right-wing (ERW) beliefs, compared to 16 per cent for Islamic radicalism. 

The radicalisation process 

In the age of technology, radicalisation has become easier than ever before. Where radical groups were once reliant on flyers, merch, and meetings, now radicals communicate on Discord servers, Facebook groups, and dedicated online forums.  

Often online radicalisation begins gradually, but modern algorithms have further strengthened the echo chamber. Even while researching articles like this, I have found that my X algorithm surfaces more far-right material: I am regularly displayed tweets containing disinformation, or that promote Tommy Robinson’s latest “documentary”. It is easy to see how someone looking for guidance could quickly be manipulated.  

After finding others online, those showing interest in far-right ideas may then be invited to in-person events. Neo-Nazi groups may be centred on social events like BBQs in which extreme-right ideologies are discussed and celebrated; the EDL may protest outside court hearings in which cases against Asian grooming gangs are being heard. Each organisation has local organisers responsible for this engagement. 

Ivan Humble, a staff member at Me and You Education, which seeks to challenge discrimination, was an EDL member from 2009 to 2013, and a local organiser for the group in East Anglia. He identified online radicalisation as a particular concern, telling me that groups are “rebranding white supremacy in a way that’s more palatable for different eras.” One British-based group has used the popular video game Call of Duty to find potential members.  

In essence, white violence is forgivable, Muslim violence is not. 

Another “former” – as those once involved in far-right extremism are known – said that online spaces like powerlifting forums can quickly introduce vulnerable people to far-right beliefs, and begin the descent down the alt-right pipeline. The alt-right is a mostly US-based nationalist movement that exists largely online, on sites like 4chan. Their most significant attempt at moving from an online hate group into the real world was the 2017 Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville, Virginia. The term “alt-right pipeline” succinctly describes the process undertaken when individuals move from male-centred online content, like videos of pick-up artists, into male-dominated forums that serve as incubators for far-right radicalisation. 

Samantha (who chose to give only a first name) now works at Life After Hate, an organisation founded in 2011 as a resource to help those leaving extremism. Based in the US, the organisation is working to tackle rising extremism, epitomised by the 6 January 2020 Capitol riots. Life After Hate offers services like peer mentorship, as well as information on their website and their podcast, The Daily Former.

For Humble, his radicalisation – and in particular, his conflation of Islam and violence – began after witnessing the Islamist extremism of Anjem Choudary. Choudary has led al-Muhajiroun, a group banned under UK terror laws for its attempts to spread Sharia law through violence, since 2014. He has been described as “the face” of militant Islamic extremism in Britain. Delivering sermons online, Choudary has encouraged his followers to join Islamic State Fighters in Syria, and is responsible for inciting violence and radicalisation among vulnerable Muslim communities. In July 2024, he was sentenced to a minimum of 28 years in prison for directing a terrorist organisation.  

Among far-right groups, says Winter, one Muslim represents the whole, while extreme white violence is considered an outlier. “They see Muslim-identifying-terrorists as representative,” thereby tarnishing an entire community as extremist despite only a tiny proportion holding those views – a generalisation they don’t apply to their own extremist communities. In essence, white violence is forgivable, Muslim violence is not. 

Leaders of these groups target those who are struggling with identity and promise a solution. For many, the extreme right represents community and the chance to start over. The radicalisation process happens gradually, and as the individual becomes more isolated, it feels impossible to leave. 

The deradicalisation path 

Although “deradicalisation” is a generally accepted term within academia, Samantha disagrees with it. Instead, she prefers “disengagement”. In its suggestion that leavers have only “succeeded” once their mindset has changed, “deradicalisation” often fails to celebrate the many milestones along the way to that endpoint. The mental shift required to finally depart from radical beliefs, says Samantha, is the hardest part of the process – it can take years to undo ideas instilled during childhood. It’s an effort Samantha feels deserves greater praise – but “disengagement” should still be celebrated as a key step along the journey. I will continue to use “deradicalisation”, but with these concerns in mind. 

Researcher John Horgan refers to deradicalisation as “the social and psychological process whereby an individual’s commitment to, and involvement in, violent radicalisation is reduced to the extent that they are no longer at risk of involvement and engagement in violent activity.” Essentially, the goal for the individual is, once they’ve left the movement, to rewrite their belief systems. 

The emotional toll of leaving ERW groups cannot be underestimated. As Samantha said: “I think most people treat it as leaving a highly abusive relationship, or a cult.” The emotional dependency created in the group makes it difficult to see a life outside of it, something Samantha feels is made worse by media portrayals that show formers as outcasts. “I found that there was a huge deficit in what the media portrays what life is like after leaving the far right versus what actually happens and because of that I think a lot of people are suffering a lot more than they need to, both directly and indirectly.” 

For Samantha, leaving the extreme right meant physically distancing herself from the social circles that were responsible for planning violent events like the Unite The Right rally. Even the physical act of leaving can be difficult. Samantha had to buy an unregistered car and smuggle belongings to a storage locker without her boyfriend noticing. Then she was confronted with the fear of being doxxed as well as ongoing threats from the group. It is during this transitionary period that, Ivan Humble believes, individuals are even more vulnerable to rejoining. 

The mental shift required to finally depart from radical beliefs is the hardest part of the process.

A range of initiatives has been introduced over the last decade to help individuals to leave these groups. The fact that anti-terror programmes are looking more towards white violence as a notable terror threat reflects a shift away from the post-9/11 viewing of terrorism solely through the lens of Islamist extremism. Some of these programs, like Prevent, are run by national governments, indicating a growing recognition of the threat of the far-right. But across Europe and America, state-led efforts are few and far between. 

Others are run by charities that are reliant on donations and volunteers to conduct more localised, on-the-ground programmes. Against the aggressive approach taken by states, charity work offers a more empathetic approach to a process that is still in a trial and error phase. Groups like Exit Hate, for instance, which began in the UK in 2017, offer guidance for those leaving extremist groups, or those with a loved one involved in extremism. The organisation is modelled on programs like Exit Hate-Deutschland, which was co-founded by a criminologist and former neo-Nazi leader.  

These groups believe that “formers” play an integral role in counter-terrorism, as their lived experiences have given them the relatability and empathy to help those still in the movement. “I think formers are absolutely crucial in leaving because we represent the possibility of what life can be, and we understand you,” says Samantha. 

This system is not without its flaws, however. Lancaster University’s Aaron Winter is concerned about the lack of diversity within counter-terrorism expertise. He believes that anti-extremist panels should not be dominated by formers, but instead should feature more outside experts to complement the insights of those with lived experience. This would help draw attention to the institutions that uphold these racist ideologies, and introduce the crucial context that is required to dismantle and challenge far-right beliefs. 

Winter’s proposed approach is in keeping with the theories of academics like Luke Bertram and Muhammad Amir Rana who propose a strategy focused on disengagement and reintegration.  

This begins with re-education and ideological intervention, led for the most part by formers. They would explain the flaws with the movement and offer statistics that undermine the ideologies peddled by the elites – for instance, Humble speaks of the importance of realising that housing shortages are not caused by increased immigration, but largely by the knock-on effect of Thatcher’s “right to buy” scheme in the 1990s. These kinds of details challenge the core beliefs at the centre of these movements, in the process generating a scepticism among members that can be a first step in them distancing themselves from the movement. It could also involve speaking to the community they target with threats and violence. For example, Humble’s deradicalisation was triggered in part by a friendship with a Muslim who showed genuine care. 

During this process, experts and formers work to provide counter-narratives that highlight the hypocrisies of these movements, and ask, for instance, Islamic scholars to accurately explain Islamic beliefs. Other times members will simply realise that the leaders of these movements care little for their followers, as we have seen with Tommy Robinson fleeing the country at every given opportunity. 

The second step is vocational training and financial support, something few of the charities working in this space are able to offer. One of the key vulnerabilities among people involved in far-right activism is a lack of employment prospects and direction. Vocational training would therefore equip individuals with the necessary skills for a life outside the group. It would mean moving away from the day-to-day runnings of far-right groups, and putting these skills to use in a way that helps re-integrate them into society. 

The final step of the process is providing a viable environment for reintegration. This might involve the individual moving away from the area where the group is based, deleting social media, changing identities – anything that will make it more difficult for members of the group to contact them. Trials in Pakistan have shown success with dedicated rehabilitation facilities for Islamic extremism – a programme the UK has been slow to adopt, perhaps because it would mean acknowledging the extent of the problem, something governments to date have been reluctant to do. 

Overall, those helping in the deradicalisation process need to highlight the possibility of a better future outside of the group. Only formers can convincingly do this. As Samantha said, “My worst day out of it is better than my best day in it.” 

Government failings 

Given a lack of governmental support for these charitable initiatives, there are concerns of burnout for the volunteers and workers running programmes that can come with a significant emotional toll. Additionally, with the extreme right still seen as a fringe political force with little influence on voting, governments have a tendency to ignore the problem, hoping extremist groups might simply self-destruct. 

Additionally, while a one-to-one approach is vital in supporting those looking to leave and preventing them from returning to the groups, it fails to address the underlying problems that lead to radicalisation in the first place – isolation, economic disparities, and the dark side of online freedoms. Charities lack the resources to both petition the government and do the groundwork needed to help individuals who are suffering as a consequence of the extreme right. Without state support, these charities are fighting an uphill battle.  

Governments have used immigrants as a scapegoat for high unemployment and crime without tackling the underlying problems causing these trends.

There are additional concerns about using those who have been victimised by extreme-right individuals to assist in the deradicalisation of the same individuals. While volunteers for charities are mostly white formers, the process often requires the othered community to be present. This can be daunting, as well as a potential safety concern, with victims of racial abuse being placed in front of audiences of extreme-right supporters. Humble says he has had positive experiences instigating conversations between, for instance, Muslims and wavering extreme-right members, and indeed, his journey out of radicalisation was helped by speaking to Muslims. But it is unfair to shift the responsibility onto already struggling communities. If anything, says Samantha, this is a “white person’s problem”. Many individuals teetering on the edge of radicalisation will have been shunned by liberal friends who, instead of opening up a conversation, distanced themselves from them, thereby encouraging them into the arms of extreme-right converters. 

Humble believes that had others been more willing to have a dialogue with him, he would have felt more able to leave the group, if not more resistant to even joining in the first place. With Britain’s two-party system leading to increased divisiveness, more and more political discourse takes place in online echo chambers, where it can’t be so easily challenged. “Nobody wants to talk to nobody,” Humble says frustratedly. 

Understanding and empathy are the bedrock of a functioning society, and extended Covid-19 lockdowns, coupled with increasingly insular existences on our phones, have pushed people into solitude. Government counter-terrorist initiatives only fuel this further, casting the blame onto the individual. Meanwhile, individuals are left to struggle out of the mess that they supposedly put themselves in, with little support other than volunteers. 

Individuals wanting to leave extreme-right ideologies also have to contend with feelings of shame and embarrassment. When weighing up the emotional impact of staying and leaving, this shame can make staying seem like the easier choice. 

Winter succinctly described the crux of the issue when he said that we can’t keep blaming the failures of our democracy on the working class or immigrants, and then pit them against each other. Governments have used immigrants as a scapegoat for high unemployment and crime without tackling the underlying problems causing these trends. Austerity is a symbol of a failing economic system, not of increased immigration, but right-wing elites have learned how to warp this for their own gains. As a result, voter turnout is declining in the UK (the last elections recorded the lowest turnout since 2001); many no longer trust even the protest vote to adequately convey their anger. 

The future 

When asked how we fix the problem, neither Samantha, Winter nor Humble had a clear idea.  

For groups like Exit Hate, social media regulation and one-to-one guidance are proposed solutions. Ecology is another. This has become a focus in their fight against eco-fascism. They seek ways of shifting people away from exclusionary patriotism, towards a patriotism built on pride in their country as a diverse community. 

Samantha wants an end to the stigma experienced by those leaving extreme-right groups, better mental health resources to address the vulnerabilities that make people susceptible to radicalisation in the first place, and for people to be humanised. Shunning friends who espouse right-wing beliefs might seem easier than having difficult, confronting conversations about politics. But uncomfortable situations must be overcome in order to better support vulnerable friends. 

Winter instead argues that the systems that cause disenfranchisement (capitalism and patriarchy, for instance) need to be addressed before any radical change can happen. The far-right’s concept of white victimhood distracts from the very real underlying issues created by these systems. Meanwhile, supporters are told that individuals – immigrants, women, Jews, and Muslims – are to blame. To radically change, Winter wants us to reflect on the concept of democracy and its recurrent failings. 

With current government initiatives seeming to polarise politics further, and charities at risk of burnout, a multi-pronged approach is now required. We need the empathy and relatability of formers, the objectivity of experts, and the stability gained through the provision of financial and practical resources. We need governments that care about their citizens enough to provide adequate mental health and rehabilitation support, and we need electorates that care enough about their country to vote, and vote meaningfully.