Neo-Nazi's death an end of era?
Racist failed in quest for Aryan homeland
Sarah Kershaw, New York Times
Sunday, September 12, 2004
Toward the end of his life, the man who was once the nation's most visible face of white supremacy, a Nazi-uniform-wearing, jackbooted ideologue whom his critics called "the grandfather of hate," was a frail old widower gasping for breath in a tiny donated house in northern Idaho.
And when he died in his sleep Wednesday at 86, Richard G. Butler, who founded the Aryan Nations in the 1970s, had already long ago lost his power and influence over the radical right, a collection of extremist subcultures, militias and neo-Nazi offshoots that his movement spawned.
Still, the death of one of the founders of the 20th century white separatist movement signals the end of a chapter in the nation's social history. And it certainly marks the failure of Butler's ambition to create what he had envisioned as "an autonomous Aryan homeland" in the Pacific Northwest.
"Butler's death, in a way, marks the end of an era," said Daniel Levitas, author of "The Terrorist Next Door: The Militia Movement and the Radical Right" (St. Martin's Press, 2002).
Butler's brand of white supremacy was based on a theology known as "Christian Identity," combining a heretical interpretation of the Bible and a belief that Jews were satanic and blacks "mud people." Before the seams of that movement began to come apart, Butler's 20-acre compound in the pine- forested hills of northern Idaho was a gathering spot for white supremacists.
Most experts agree that though white supremacy may be ebbing, it has certainly not died along with Butler. Indeed, there are signs on the Internet and in rallies that it may still be thriving, from Washington state to West Virginia, although in new forms.
"Is the radical right in trouble, faltering and fading away?" said Mark Potok, who tracks extremist groups for the Southern Poverty Law Center in Montgomery, Ala. "I don't think so. I think it's yet again starting to morph." In the Pacific Northwest, a bastion of white separatism, anti-government militias and survivalists, a new dogma has begun to spread, drawing on Odinism, a pre-Christian theology that worships Norse deities and derives its name from the chief god, Odin.
Skinheads and other separatist groups who have rejected Christian Identity are drawn to Odinism because it rids them of the messy problem of having to contend with Christian values like compassion and forgiveness and frees them to justify violence, said Randy Blazak, a professor of sociology at Portland State University and director of the university's Hate Crimes Research Network.
Blazak and other experts trace the rise of radical subcultures like Odinism to the turmoil in the white supremacy movement. For several years it has been riven by infighting, philosophical friction and fall-offs in recruitment.
Today there are about 17 Aryan Nations chapters across the country with a total of 200 or so members, figures that are a third to a half of what they were in the mid-'80s, according to the Southern Poverty Law Center.
Things got worse for the radical right after the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995 and the conviction in that attack of one of its members, Timothy McVeigh. The known paramilitary groups and militias with roots in places like Montana and Washington state numbered 171 in 2003, down from 858 in 1996, according to the law center.
"The militia movement suffered from an aggressive federal crackdown in the wake of Oklahoma City," Levitas said. "Americans in this day and age are not at all keen on the idea of being recruited into violent revolutionary organizations whose mission is to assassinate public officials. It is not a very sellable idea in a post-9/11 world."
Sarah Kershaw, New York Times
Sunday, September 12, 2004
Toward the end of his life, the man who was once the nation's most visible face of white supremacy, a Nazi-uniform-wearing, jackbooted ideologue whom his critics called "the grandfather of hate," was a frail old widower gasping for breath in a tiny donated house in northern Idaho.
And when he died in his sleep Wednesday at 86, Richard G. Butler, who founded the Aryan Nations in the 1970s, had already long ago lost his power and influence over the radical right, a collection of extremist subcultures, militias and neo-Nazi offshoots that his movement spawned.
Still, the death of one of the founders of the 20th century white separatist movement signals the end of a chapter in the nation's social history. And it certainly marks the failure of Butler's ambition to create what he had envisioned as "an autonomous Aryan homeland" in the Pacific Northwest.
"Butler's death, in a way, marks the end of an era," said Daniel Levitas, author of "The Terrorist Next Door: The Militia Movement and the Radical Right" (St. Martin's Press, 2002).
Butler's brand of white supremacy was based on a theology known as "Christian Identity," combining a heretical interpretation of the Bible and a belief that Jews were satanic and blacks "mud people." Before the seams of that movement began to come apart, Butler's 20-acre compound in the pine- forested hills of northern Idaho was a gathering spot for white supremacists.
Most experts agree that though white supremacy may be ebbing, it has certainly not died along with Butler. Indeed, there are signs on the Internet and in rallies that it may still be thriving, from Washington state to West Virginia, although in new forms.
"Is the radical right in trouble, faltering and fading away?" said Mark Potok, who tracks extremist groups for the Southern Poverty Law Center in Montgomery, Ala. "I don't think so. I think it's yet again starting to morph." In the Pacific Northwest, a bastion of white separatism, anti-government militias and survivalists, a new dogma has begun to spread, drawing on Odinism, a pre-Christian theology that worships Norse deities and derives its name from the chief god, Odin.
Skinheads and other separatist groups who have rejected Christian Identity are drawn to Odinism because it rids them of the messy problem of having to contend with Christian values like compassion and forgiveness and frees them to justify violence, said Randy Blazak, a professor of sociology at Portland State University and director of the university's Hate Crimes Research Network.
Blazak and other experts trace the rise of radical subcultures like Odinism to the turmoil in the white supremacy movement. For several years it has been riven by infighting, philosophical friction and fall-offs in recruitment.
Today there are about 17 Aryan Nations chapters across the country with a total of 200 or so members, figures that are a third to a half of what they were in the mid-'80s, according to the Southern Poverty Law Center.
Things got worse for the radical right after the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995 and the conviction in that attack of one of its members, Timothy McVeigh. The known paramilitary groups and militias with roots in places like Montana and Washington state numbered 171 in 2003, down from 858 in 1996, according to the law center.
"The militia movement suffered from an aggressive federal crackdown in the wake of Oklahoma City," Levitas said. "Americans in this day and age are not at all keen on the idea of being recruited into violent revolutionary organizations whose mission is to assassinate public officials. It is not a very sellable idea in a post-9/11 world."
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