One question I have received several emails about is “what was it like, you know, back then?” and this is a reference to my life in extremism. It’s a good question honestly, as many of those outside of extremist movements can only speculate or discern from skewed media reports. The short answer is, it was living like a paranoid schizophrenic, thinking everyone is out to get you and that you are battling to preserve something intangible. The long answer is a bit more complex…

At the core of all extremism is fear, ideology, and of course hatred for perceived enemies and so life reflected that nearly every moment of the day. I worked tirelessly to promote the people, organizations, and ideologies I was associated with and when I was given the job as Chief of Staff of the National Socialist Movement, my work for the organization was nonstop. I read countless books, watched documentaries on revisionist history, and listened to music espousing the ideology. I attended and set up rallies, attended meetings, organized members and set them up with their regional leaders, and often recommended media to members to further indoctrinate them. 

I would wake up in the morning, eat, have a cup of coffee and get to work immediately, my life revolved around it entirely. I had no media, friends, or much of anything outside of the movement, everything and everyone I knew was connected to it. I was always angry, always searching for acts of the “enemies,” against “us,” and as the saying goes, if you look for anything hard enough, you’ll find it. 

I’d set up flyer campaigns, when not doing that I’d contact members about their dues, when not doing that I’d manage the member’s lists, when not doing that I’d be setting up rallies… it was constant. It was a hard life, full of anger, resentment, and hatred on a nearly 24-7 basis… a half-life really. 

There was no promotion of love, there was no love, only suspicion that so and so was a snitch, working with federal agents, or a “race traitor,” daily. There were copious amounts of violence, often initiated by others such as Antifa, but we welcomed it and it strengthened our ideological bonds. Those who wouldn’t fight when violence came, were deemed weak and ridiculed to the point where they’d leave the movement. There was little room for humanity, little room for anything that wasn’t toxic to the human condition as a whole. If you questioned anything or anyone, you were seen as a liability who could turn at any moment and compromise the group. 

Aside from anger, there was no room for emotion, no room for empathy or remorse, you were a cog in a machine and nothing more. Many knew hardly anything about fascism, instead, they knew they hated others and had a soft spot for Nazi aesthetics. It was a miserable existence, even at its best, it was angry, depressing, and full of hate and fear. 

I often tell people that the side of extremists works tirelessly towards their ends, and so those working on the side of love must also work tirelessly to counter it. I always say my life truly began when I left extremism because before that it was less than a decent human life. This is why I so diligently use my knowledge of the inner workings of extremist groups to counter them and to help those leaving to break free of the ideology and find true peace and love for all mankind. This is why I fearlessly speak out, in interviews, in speaking engagements, public events, on this website and countless other websites.