Armed groups on the right and left exploit the AR-15 as both tool and symbol: The radicals’ riflehttps://www.washingtonpost.com/nation/interactive/2023/ar-15-armed-extremist-militia-groups/?itid=hp-top-table-main_p001_f001DURHAM, N.C. — The five friends had spent the morning stalking through the trees and crossing a creek in military formation.
Now, D’s reluctant embrace of the AR-15 adds one more foot soldier to the volatile mix of armed movements that have proliferated over the past decade, a predominantly right-wing mobilization whose violence has fueled far-left “community defense” organizing in response.
Confrontations have erupted in Texas, Oregon and elsewhere in recent months as leftists with long guns protect LGBTQ gatherings from armed right-wing agitators who baselessly smear trans people and drag-show artists as “groomers” and pedophiles. Such scenes look ominous to extremism analysts who warn of an elevated risk of political violence from vigilantes who wield the AR-15 as both tool and symbol.
Militants say they favor the AR-15 for all the same reasons mainstream enthusiasts do — it’s easy to handle, affordable and customizable — but they also exploit the fear surrounding the weapon.
“It’s just a tool, an inanimate object, but it is polarizing, and it’ll make people treat you differently,” said Cody, 26, a member of an anti-government militia group near Norfolk, who spoke on the condition that his full name be withheld for security reasons. “It will make people treat you differently if you are armed with an AR-15.”
Cody, 26, a member of an anti-government militia group in southeastern Virginia, cleans an AR-15 rifle in his home in September. “It will make people treat you differently if you are armed with an AR-15," said Cody, shown here displaying his collection.The AR-15’s image as an instrument of domestic terror has been crystallized in recent years by its use in a string of hate-filled mass shootings. AR-15-wielding extremists targeted elderly congregants at a Pittsburgh synagogue in 2018, the deadliest anti-Jewish attack in U.S. history; Jewish families on the last day of Passover in Poway, Calif., in 2019; and, last year, Black customers at a supermarket in Buffalo, to name a few.
Other far-right factions throughout the country have shown up with AR-15s to intimidate voters and local officials, harass Muslims outside of mosques, and stand as self-appointed guards at pro-Donald Trump rallies. Anti-government militias also have brandished AR-15s in armed standoffs with federal agents, such as the one in 2014 led by rancher Cliven Bundy in Bunkerville, Nev. “Boogaloo” extremists, part of a right-leaning movement calling for violent revolution, have made the AR-15 a core part of their look, sometimes adorning their weapons with coded symbols.
“It is one of several ways they are articulating that what they are doing is warfare,” said Kathleen Belew, a historian at Northwestern University and author of “Bring the War Home: The White Power Movement and Paramilitary America.” “The AR-15 remains the emblematic cultural weapon.”
Two armed groups — one on the far right, one on the far left — agreed to allow a Washington Post reporter and photographer to document training sessions on two weekends last fall, on the condition that identifying details be withheld. The gatherings were a rare look at how militants on opposing extremes of American society are arming in anticipation of unrest, and overlap in the belief that civilians with rifles — and specifically, AR-15s — provide an important check on federal powers.
There is no parallel, however, when it comes to the use of violence by the extreme right and left. FBI and Homeland Security officials repeatedly have called far-right extremists the most urgent domestic terrorism concern; the White House strategy document on domestic terrorism specifies that white supremacists and violent militia groups “are assessed as presenting the most persistent and lethal threats.”
By comparison, attacks by militant leftists are almost never deadly, according to attack records, and typically involve “melee violence” at protests rather than the premeditated mass shootings or standoffs carried out by the far right. Far-left violence in the past decade, according to a report by George Washington University’s Program on Extremism, “pales in comparison” with other categories of extremism, though the report warns that “ongoing trends in American society could lead to increased frequency and lethality.”
Experts say there is no firm count of armed extremist groups in the United States on the left or the right.
These groups “repeatedly form, splinter into separate units and dissolve, as members’ interests wax and wane,” writes militia researcher Amy Cooter of Middlebury University’s Center on Terrorism, Extremism and Counterterrorism.
More concerning, analysts say, is that the violent rhetoric of once-fringe movements has now seeped into the Republican mainstream, with extremists exploiting white-grievance politics and anti-LGBTQ bigotry at all levels of political office. In 2022, according to an Anti-Defamation League report, more than 100 candidates who expressed extremist views ran in local, state legislative and congressional races, including at least a dozen with documented connections to far-right militant groups.
An armed leftist group stands guard against right-wing activists who were protesting outside an all-ages drag show in January at BuzzBrew’s Kitchen in Dallas. (Photos by Mark Felix for The Washington Post)After federal prosecutions of extremist groups involved in the Jan. 6, 2021, U.S. Capitol attack, several far-right factions dissolved or went underground, saying they were unsure of how far the crackdown would extend. The Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project, a global conflict monitoring group, says at least 56 far-right, militia-style groups were active in 2022, a decrease from 83 in 2021, and 159 in 2020.
Militant leftists, a tiny fraction of armed movements that have been documented nationwide, likewise are impossible to count because of the fluidity of groups and the secrecy involved in the organizing, analysts say. Even among other racial justice activists, armed antifascists have been viewed skeptically for years; groups sometimes were asked to leave by Black Lives Matter protesters who insisted on gun-free events.
The picture has changed since, with wider tolerance from other leftists and liberals whose faith in state protection has eroded after law enforcement failed to prevent the Capitol attack or stop the mass shooting of schoolchildren in Uvalde, Tex. For months during the unrest of 2020, Americans watched racial justice demonstrations in the Pacific Northwest in which the police either intervened with violence or left protesters feeling vulnerable to attack by right-wing provocateurs.
The scenes prompted wider interest in the militant left, with more visibility for independent local networks, some of them organizing under “John Brown Gun Club,” named after the militant abolitionist who was executed in 1859.
“We deserve to be able to defend ourselves, and whether that is against the state or against other folks that would come at us, it’s defense,” said a 33-year-old anarchist organizer who spoke on the condition that they be quoted using only their gun-club nickname, “Paper.” The activist, who identifies as queer, owns two AR-15s and offers firearms training for marginalized communities, including the cohort with D in North Carolina.
D said that at this stage in life — a 40-something parent with a professional job — they never expected to be in the woods learning how to cross a creek in a simulated ambush.
“I view these tools and this training for situations when it is life and limb,” D said. “And I don’t view that as remote.”
A few weeks after that prediction, on a Saturday night just before Thanksgiving, a gunman with an AR-15 opened fire inside an LGBTQ nightclub in Colorado Springs, killing five people and wounding 18 others.
The bloodshed only reinforced D’s decision to get an AR-15, though they were reluctant to just go out and buy one. Instead, D said, they eased into the idea by building their own rifle, ordering the components in stages starting in late fall.
“I’m picking up the lower receiver from my gun dealer later this week,” they texted.
The next month, on the same evening as a drag performance that far-right groups had tried to stop, a mysterious attack on electrical substations in Moore County, N.C., knocked out power for tens of thousands of people. Though investigators have yet to make arrests or describe a motive, social media posts speculating that the drag event was the target went viral.
D was a longtime fan of one of the performers; they’d hung out in the same drag scene around Durham. This attack was close to home, just a couple hours from where D lives.
Within days of the Moore County incident, D texted a photo of a shiny black rifle lying on a table.
The AR-15 was almost ready.
One sunny day this past fall, members of an anti-government militia group leaned their guns against tree trunks and huddled in the same wooded patch of southeastern Virginia where revolutionaries fought British forces more than two centuries ago.
“This is where the Founding Fathers were,” one member, 28-year-old Harrison, told the others. “I don’t know if y’all can feel it, but I do.”
The men view militia training as an extension of that legacy, preparation to defend the republic from radical leftists and “tyrannical” federal authorities. They see their AR-15s as modern-day muskets, though the rifles shoot 30 times faster, from distances up to 10 times farther.
“It gives you your voice,” Harrison said. “It’s the surest guard to freedom that I can think of.”
Beyond zero tolerance for gun control and deep suspicion of the federal government, there’s little ideological cohesion among the members. The six men who met for training that day — five White, one of Puerto Rican descent, ranging in age from their 20s to 40s — expressed libertarian stances mixed with influences from Christian nationalism and the “boogaloo” movement’s call for violent revolution.
Three military veterans were among the group. One, a former soldier, engraved his AR-15 with a favorite piece of scripture: “Blessed be God, my Rock who trains my hands for war, my fingers for battle.” The other two are former Marines, one of whom said he was discharged a year ago after refusing to be vaccinated against the coronavirus.
The gun is a point of bonding. All but one owns an AR-15; most have at least two.
“Even if it sits in your closet,” Harrison said, “the government still knows there’s someone out there with a rifle, and if they go too far, that person may be there.”
The men took turns recording one another running the course, leaves crunching under boots and gunfire interrupting birdsong. Harrison said a neighbor complained recently that the area was beginning to sound “like Afghanistan.” The men laughed.
They believe that something dangerous is bubbling within American society, that a conflagration is coming, even if the battle lines aren’t quite clear yet. That’s what brings them back to the woods with their rifles. Just in case, they said.
“A lot of people think militia groups fantasize about the police coming down on their house and they get into this big shootout and they’re martyred. That’s the last thing I want,” Cody said.
Cody sported a yellow T-shirt paying homage to Kyle Rittenhouse, the teenager who successfully argued that he acted in self-defense when he killed two people with an AR-15 during unrest in Kenosha, Wis., in 2020. In right-wing circles, Rittenhouse’s acquittal was celebrated as a Second Amendment victory. The Rittenhouse case, Cody said, convinced people who were unsure about buying an AR-15 for self-defense “what you can use that rifle for under stress.”
Members of the group first met in online gun forums and coalesced around Second Amendment activism. They no longer use a formal name, they said, partly because of the post-Jan. 6 federal prosecution of militia groups and partly because they don’t fit a single ideology. Cody said he sought out the group after leaving Oath Keepers and Three Percenter formations that he considered “too racist.”
They describe themselves as a “constitutionalist militia,” their term for what terrorism analysts consider an anti-government armed group promoting Second Amendment extremism. The group’s argument — which runs counter to decades of court rulings — is that ordinary citizens should have access to the same weapons as the government.
The men balk at being lumped in with white supremacists under the “far-right extremists” label, noting that they’ve marched alongside armed black nationalists in Richmond. Manny, who expressed pride in his Puerto Rican heritage, said he wouldn’t have joined a racist group: “Gun rights are civil rights.”
Members said their vetting of recruits includes intense questioning to weed out “St. Dylann crap,” a reference to racist fans of the neo-Nazi mass shooter who attacked a historically Black church in Charleston, S.C., in 2015. They say they also reject applicants who seem eager for violence, a way to filter for undercover informants or mentally unstable people.
“I don’t wish to have a war against my government, but if it comes, hopefully I got the right group of people around me,” said a member who goes by Hoss.
“Be honest with yourselves; we’d be out,” one of the former Marines said.
“But there’s 300 million firearms in the United States,” Hoss countered.
“That’s if the country can manage to come together,” the former Marine said. “There’s a lot of division right now.”
“That’s why you find your group before s--- falls apart,” Harrison said.
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