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17
More Than Walking Away: Barriers
to Disengagement Among Former White
Supremacists
Steven Windisch, Pete Simi, Kathleen M. Blee,
and Matthew DeMichele
Like conventional offenders and gang members, extremists have also
been found to disengage from group activities (Bjørgo & Horgan, 2009;
Latif et al., 2018;Simietal.,2019). By disengagement, we refer to
“the process whereby an individual no longer accepts as appropriate the
socially defined rights and obligations that accompany a given role in
society” (Ebaugh, 1988, p. 3). Extremist disengagement occurs in two
S. Windisch (B)
Department of Criminal Justice, Temple University, Philadelphia, PA, USA
e-mail: tul59449@temple.edu
P. Simi
Department of Sociology, Chapman University, Orange, CA, USA
K. M. Blee
Department of Sociology, University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, PA, USA
M. DeMichele
Research Triangle Institute, Durham, NC, USA
© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature
Switzerland AG 2022
B. Perry et al. (eds.), Right-Wing Extremism in Canada and the United States,
Palgrave Hate Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-99804-2_17
445
446 S. Windisch et al.
forms. First, the individual may alter his/her level of participation in
the group, such as avoiding violence or reducing their time with other
members (Horgan & Braddock, 2010). In these situations, the indi-
vidual remains a member but reduces his/her level of investment (e.g.,
time, money, energy) with the group. Second, disengagement may bring
the individual to leave the group entirely. This is the typical scenario
envisioned and often involves a complete separation from extremist activ-
ities. Disengagement does not require the individual to renounce their
belief system but instead is characterized by a change in behavior as the
individual is no longer motivated to participate in group activities (e.g.,
meetings, marches).
In recent years, there has been considerable research on various aspects
of extremist disengagement (for review, see Windisch et al., 2016). A
primary focus has involved exploring the various “push” and “pull”
factors that motivate a person to end their extremist careers, such as fear
of imprisonment (Aho, 1988; Horgan, 2009), “burn out” that accompa-
nies living a conspiratorial lifestyle (Bjørgo & Carlsson, 2005; Kimmel,
2007), violence (Gallant, 2014), and life changes such as starting a
family (Christensen, 2015). However, more recent research has found
that disengagement is more encompassing than merely disengaging from
extremist activities or physically removing oneself from the group (Simi
et al., 2017). Instead, disengagement requires an individual to decrease
his/her level of “embeddedness” within the group by de-identifying as an
extremist member (e.g., altering appearance). As part of the disengage-
ment process, these individuals shed their “extremist” role and adopt the
new role of a “former” extremist.
Nevertheless, critical questions remain about the complexities and
difficulties related to exiting a highly salient identity. Thus, the focus of
the current chapter is on barriers to disengagement. We ask the following
questions: what obstacles or barriers are associated with shedding a
highly salient identity, and why do people remain tethered to extremism
even after questioning or experiencing doubt with their current involve-
ment? To examine this issue, our analysis relies on extensive life-history
interviews with 47 former US white supremacist extremists (WSE)
who were members of the overlapping networks (Burris et al., 2000)
of racist groups in the movement’s four major branches: Ku Klux
17 More Than Walking Away … 447
Klan, Christian Identity, neo-Nazi, and racist skinheads (Barkun, 1994;
Dobratz & Shanks-Meile, 2000). While organizational and doctrinal
differences exist across these networks, all share fundamental ideas such
as the impending catastrophe of “white racial genocide” and the view
that a multicultural society is antithetical to the interests of European-
Americans (Zeskind, 2009). By capturing the barriers that encumber
extremist disengagement, the current study moves us beyond expla-
nations of disengagement that identify push and pull factors toward
viewing exit as a behavioral process by which structural, emotional, and
cognitive factors interact as part of an individual’s decision to exit from
his/her role as a member of a violent extremist group.
What Influences Extremist Disengagement?
Currently, terrorism literature highlights a complex web of micro- and
macro-level push and pull factors that compel disengagement from
extremist groups. Push factors refer to negative qualities in the group
or organization that induce members to leave, whereas pull factors refer
to positive considerations outside of the group that attracts members
to another life (Howell & Egley Jr., 2005;Venhaus,2010).Oneofthe
most common push factors identified involves disillusionment, which is
best understood as the realization that a consistent incongruence exists
between idealized expectations and everyday realities associated with
those same expectations (Bubolz & Simi, 2015; Casserly & Megginson,
2009). For example, an individual may join an extremist group to receive
protection but later become disillusioned by the reality that they are at
risk of victimization by fellow group members (Altier et al., 2017). Disil-
lusionment may also result from a lack of loyalty among group members
(Latif et al., 2019), loss of faith (Souleimanov & Aliyev, 2014), and
tactical disagreement (Hwang et al., 2013). Violence is another common
push factor that leads to disengagement. Violence can involve interper-
sonal conflicts over romantic relationships, money, or respect (Bjørgo &
Carlsson, 2005). Constant in-fighting among members reduces the legit-
imacy of the group and produces frustration with the inability of leaders
to manage group dynamics. Disengagement stemming from violence
448 S. Windisch et al.
can also involve witnessing or participating in aggressive action directed
toward bystanders such as children, interracial couples, or members of
the LGBTQIA+ community (Van der Valk & Wagenaar, 2010). Extreme
emotions (e.g., guilt, shame) produced from engaging in violence have
been found to generate moral concerns with movement ideology that
leads to burnout (Bjørgo, 1997,2011; Simi & Windisch, 2020).
In addition to push factors, terrorism scholars have examined pull
factors such as the prospect of being hired for a legal, legitimate job
or returning to or completing school (Mink, 2015). One of the most
common pull factors identified is the presence of positive relationships
outside of the movement. These relationships have been found to act
as motivators that change the individual’s future orientation, outlook,
and sense of responsibility (Latif et al., 2019). While children have been
identified as the most common type of familial relationship related to
disengagement (Bérubé et al., 2019;Simietal.,2019), relationships to
intimate partners, distant relatives, and peer friendships (e.g., co-workers,
childhood friends) have also been found to influence disengagement
(Aho, 1988,1994;Blazak,2004; Gadd, 2006). For these individuals,
attachments to these relationships function as a turning point away
from extremist behavior because the individual had fewer opportunities
to participate (Christensen, 2015). That is, obligations to relationships
outside of the movement create a conflict between loyalty to the group
and responsibilities to family and friends.
In recent years, researchers have found that disengagement is much
more encompassing than merely disengaging from extremist activities
or physically removing oneself from the group. For example, Simi
and colleagues (2017) examined the challenges associated with disen-
gagement after participants exit. The authors found that extremists
experienced several residual effects that participants described as a form
of “addiction” (p. 1168). These residual effects were found to intrude
on cognitive and emotional processes, and participants reported long-
term physiological effects that, in some cases, involved complete relapse
into extremist behavior. Simi and colleagues’ (2017) findings underscore
a holistic understanding of identity beyond how one thinks or feels
to include the physical embodiment of identities. Such a formulation
suggests that disengagement may be more complicated than “walking
17 More Than Walking Away … 449
away” (Horgan, 2008) and beginning another phase of life that involves
new social roles and networks.
To build on this line of research, the central focus of this chapter is
on the challenges associated with disengagement before participants exit
such an intensive and marginalized lifestyle. Existing studies of extremist
disengagement focus on exit as an absolute endpoint in which push
and pull factors act as instantaneous breaks on an individual’s extremist
career. However, life does not unfold in this type of linear fashion with
clear-cut beginning and ending phases (Wacquant, 1990). Instead, as we
analyze, structural, emotional, and cognitive factors tether an individual
to his/her role as a member of a violent extremist group and can some-
times prolong disengagement even after that person no longer embraces
the extremist lifestyle.
Methodology and Data
The current sample consists of 47 former US white supremacists whose
activism primarily occurred between 1975 and 2013. Regarding the
length of involvement, participation in white supremacism ranged from
two to thirty-four years (M=10.21; SD =6.9). Participants were inter-
viewed in the places they now live, with 45 located in 21 states across
all regions of the country and 2 in Canada. Participants ranged in age
from 23 to 57 years (M=39.98; SD =9.1) and included 32 men
and 15 women. Fifteen participants described their childhood socioeco-
nomic status as lower class, 12 as working class, 17 as middle class, and
three as upper class. A large portion of participants had extensive histories
of criminal conduct, including property offenses (e.g., shoplifting) and
a variety of violent offenses such as murder, attempted murder, street
fights, violent initiation rituals, and bomb-making. Of the 47 partici-
pants, 32 reported a history of extremist violence, and 28 had spent time
in prison.
As there is no way to compile a list of former members to serve as a
sampling frame, we identified interviewees by snowball sampling from
multiple starts to ensure variety in the location and type of extremist
group (Lofland & Lofland, 1995;Wrightetal.,1992). We developed
450 S. Windisch et al.
initial contacts through various means, including our research team’s
prior research with active and inactive white supremacists, by identi-
fying former extremists with a public presence (e.g., media, books) and
by using referrals by our project partners. We benefited from advice
by three prominent human rights groups: Anti-Defamation League,
Simon Wiesenthal Center, and Southern Poverty Law Center, as well
as an outreach organization, Life After Hate, that provides intervention
services for individuals trying to leave or who have left far-right extremist
groups. As multiple individuals were used to generate unique snowballs,
only a tiny segment of the participants were acquainted.
Substantial rapport was established before interviews through regular
contact with participants via telephone and email. Interviews were
conducted in private settings such as hotel rooms and residential homes
and public settings like restaurants and coffee shops. Most of the
interviews elicited an in-depth life history to produce narratives that
reflect the intersectionality of identity, ideology, and life experiences
(McAdams, 1997). The interviews included questions about the subject’s
family background, involvement, and disengagement, with probes to
encourage subjects to elaborate on aspects of their life histories. These
insights would not have been available through secondary sources and
movement propaganda (see also Blee, 2002). The interviews lasted
between four and more than eight hours and generated 5,028 pages of
transcripts, which indicate the level of detail generated through the life
histories. All interviews were audio-recorded and transcribed with only
minor edits. Finally, all names of research participants are pseudonyms.
We analyzed the life-history interview data using a modified grounded
theory approach (Berg, 2007; Charmaz, 2006), allowing researchers to
combine a more open-ended, inductive approach while also relying on
existing literature and frameworks to guide the research. The initial data
coding began by reading entire interview transcripts line-by-line to deter-
mine differences and similarities within and across the sample. Inductive
codes emerged from the initial phase of the line-by-line analysis (Lofland
et al., 2006). Next, deductive codes were extracted from the literature on
disengagement and related topics. After the initial codes were developed,
we compared and contrasted themes, noting relations between first-level
17 More Than Walking Away … 451
data and more general categories (Glaser & Strauss, 1967; Miles &
Huberman, 1994).
Several limitations of this study are important to mention. First,
the retrospective nature of life-history interviews raises questions about
validity and reliability due to memory erosion, distortion, and selective
recall (Baddeley, 1979). The practice of remembering is a reconstructive
process where memories are reinterpreted during each recall (Bridge &
Paller, 2012). Despite these concerns, the life-history accounts provide
important insight from the subjects’ perspective. Second, due to the
hidden nature of this population, the sample was derived through snow-
ball techniques and, as a result, is not representative, which prevents
generalizations. However, the goal of a grounded theory approach is to
develop a conceptual explanation that closely fits the data (or incidents),
which the concepts are intended to represent. Although grounded theory
is not intended to provide generalizations, the hypotheses developed can
be tested at a later point.
Results
For the purposes of this current study, barriers to disengagement are
structural, emotional, and cognitive factors that tether an individual to
his/her role as a member of a violent extremist group. Thus, barriers
are not necessarily disruptions to disengagement. Instead, these factors
lengthen the time between our participants’ initial feelings of doubt
regarding their extremist involvement and the legitimacy of the cause
and when they “officially” left the white supremacist movement (e.g.,
returned their patch; were “jumped” out; joined protective custody (or
“PC’d up”); moved to a different state/city).
Across the sample, our participants’ length of disengagement ranged
from 3 to 204 months (M=38.95; SD =44.34). In particular, 16
participants’ length of disengagement took between 3 and 12 months,
13 participants took between 13 and 24 months, 4 participants took
between 25 and 36 months, 3 participants took between 37 and
48 months, and 11 participants’ length of disengagement took more
than 48 months. It is important to note that disengagement often
452 S. Windisch et al.
represented an informal process. That is, rather than characterizing a
clear-cut endpoint, disengagement involved a combination of uncer-
emonious events such as not returning phone calls or text messages,
gradually changing one’s appearance (e.g., growing their hair out), or
slowly shifting their time and energy away from extremist activities
toward familial, professional, or educational obligations.
Based on the life-history interviews, participants discussed involve-
ment in the white supremacist movement as encompassing a totalizing
set of experiences that permeate all aspects of a person’s thoughts,
emotions, body presentations, and actions (Simi et al., 2017). As such,
successful disengagement involved participants decreasing their level
of “embeddedness” within the group. Across the sample, participants
discussed three obstacles associated with decreasing their level of embed-
dedness, including: (1) severing connections with the white supremacist
identity; (2) severing connections with the white supremacist lifestyle;
and (3) severing connections with the white supremacist ideology. Thus,
rather than constituting three distinct barriers, we view this collection
as representing link components associated with one’s level of embed-
dedness that involve differences in degrees rather than kind. Moreover,
this classification is not mutually exclusive. For example, an extremist
may sever one of these connections during disengagement, which may
be enough to decrease their level of embeddedness, or the extremist may
sever multiple connections simultaneously. In the following sections, we
provide examples and discuss these barriers in more detail.
Severing Connections with the White Supremacist
Identity
The first barrier to decreasing their level of embeddedness involved
severing connections with their white supremacist identity. Being a
white supremacist is comparable to holding a “master status” (Hughes,
1945) that is typically at the core of their self-concept and occupies a
central position in their daily lives (Simi & Futrell, 2009). As a member,
white supremacists are embedded in a culture of vitalizing and reac-
tive emotions such as hypermasculinity, pride, and honor (Blee, 2002;
17 More Than Walking Away … 453
Jasper, 1998) and bodily engagement (e.g., ritualized dances, salutes,
and uniforms). As part of the disengagement process, these individuals
must decrease their embeddedness within the group by shedding their
“extremist” identity and adopting a new identity of a “former” extremist.
For example,
Ideologically, it was hard, but I was more scared to lose my entire iden-
tity. You feel lost, you know, because like your identity and your life are
out of sync. It’s depressing, actually… I mean because I spent so much
energy reading and learning and a large portion of my life becoming that
person… I had to accept that I would need to learn who I was all over
again, and that took a while to accept. (Lynn, Interview 47, January 30,
2016)
Lynn’s account underscores the central argument of this chapter by illus-
trating that white supremacy is about more than just adhering to specific
ideas; it is a “totalizing commitment” (Simi et al., 2017, p. 1174) and an
entire way of life that includes self-discovery, education, and transforma-
tion. Disengaging from this highly salient identity requires the individual
to dislodge themselves from various ideological and lifestyle connections.
For many participants, the prospect of separating from their extremist
identity and seeking new friendship networks and systems of support,
altering their appearance, changing musical preferences and clothing
styles, and a variety of other lifestyle modifications emerged as a daunting
task that prolonged their exit. Similar to Lynn, participants struggled to
begin the process of cognitively and emotionally distancing themselves
from the movement after deciding to exit, which helps explain why it
took more than two years for over half of our sample (n=24; 51%) to
exit officially.
Similarly, the internalization of negative qualities of extremism (e.g.,
“bad,” “evil”) into their identity emerged as an obstacle to disengage-
ment. Because extremism is so ingrained in these individuals’ daily lives,
it becomes part of their identity and their sense of self-worth by exten-
sion. In this way, progress made on behalf of the white supremacist
movement reflects a victory for the cause and represents an individual
454 S. Windisch et al.
achievement as actors often fuse the collective identity with their iden-
tity. Consequently, when individuals recognize flaws and inconsistencies
with the ideology and/or movement culture, they also view these defi-
ciencies as detracting from their self-worth. In these situations, the
individual internalizes—accurately or not—the idea that they are as
“horrible” and “awful” as the culture they embraced, which has the
potential of delaying their disengagement as these individuals confront
negative emotions such as embarrassment, depression, worthlessness,
shame, and guilt. In the following example, Zander discusses his internal
struggles with leaving the white supremacist movement over 18 months.
Leaving is hard because if this is as horrible as everybody thinks it is,
what does that say about me? That just makes me a horrible person, and
a sucker, and a tool for being drawn into something awful, and that can’t
be right. I’m a good person… pride kept getting in the way. Doubts
kept popping up here and there, and I’d beat them back down because I
wasn’t ready to address reality and look at myself. (Zander, Interview 39,
December 21, 2015)
While Zander notices the WSM’s deficiencies, he cannot disengage
because his self-appraisal (i.e., that of a “good person”) does not align
with his views of the movement. Zander attempts to neutralize this
internal conflict through self-talk. The very act of self-talk suppresses
manifestations of doubt and questioning. However, doubt and ques-
tioning persist despite self-talk, which leaves Zander with a paradoxical
struggle. On the one hand, Zander can try and continue ignoring reality
by dismissing the flaws of the WSM and thus shield himself from such
negative labels. This course of action, however, leaves Zander doubting
and questioning a movement culture that he continues to structure
his life around, which has the potential to surface as “emotional leak-
age” involving expressions of anger, guilt, and shame directed toward
the self and the movement (Porter et al., 2012;Waxer,1977; also see
Simi et al., 2019). On the other hand, Zander can disengage from the
WSM. By doing so, however, he risks internalizing these negative qual-
ities (e.g., “awful,” “horrible”) as a reflection of his sense of self, given
his previous identification with this belief system. For Zander, like many
17 More Than Walking Away … 455
other participants, this dilemma was resolved by locating an alternative
outlet through which he could channel his sense of self-worth, such as
family (especially children), religion, school, or work.
Severing Connections with the White Supremacist
Lifestyle
The second barrier to decreasing WSE’s level of embeddedness involved
severing connections with the white supremacist lifestyle. Involvement
in the white supremacist movement includes an extensive set of commit-
ments and involves a totalizing set of experiences that permeate all
aspects of a person’s thoughts, emotions, body presentations, and actions
(Simi et al., 2017). Even their relationships with institutions such as
religion and their peer associations become entirely defined by this
worldview. Based on the life-history interview data, participants became
enmeshed entirely in daily rituals and basic living practices that were
organized around the group’s ideological and criminal lifestyle, which
provided them with valued and useful “perks” (Anderson, 1999;Decker,
1996) such as peer acceptance, status, and thrill-seeking opportunities.
Alice, a former white supremacist street gang member, discusses how
leaving extremism was more difficult than walking away. Instead, this
process took more than seven years to complete and required her to give
up the lifestyle and activities she had come to “live for.”
Even after I felt done, it’s not like I just walked away and became some
straight, square person. That lifestyle had become my life. It was a real
high-tension lifestyle that I lived for... The lifestyle was always fast-paced.
I was always on the edge. The police were ready to come. You might go
to jail. There were shootings. There was drugs. There was violence. That
life was hard to give up. (Alice, Interview 32, October 30, 2015)
Alice’s desire to live a high-tension lifestyle filled with “sneaky thrills”
(Katz, 1988, p. 53) underscores the seductive nature of the white
supremacist subculture. These seductive role commitments were so
intense that even after Alice no longer identified as a white supremacist,
her connection with and attraction to the street lifestyle remained salient.
456 S. Windisch et al.
Many participants echoed similar sentiments by indicating the time
between their initial doubts and their actual disengagement was length-
ened due to issues with offending and drug addiction in which they
relied on the group as a source of supply and criminal lifestyle as a
source of financial income. The attraction to the status, camaraderie, and
a sense of belonging functioned as a barrier to disengagement for other
participants. For example,
I read this book, Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, and realized I don’t want
my country to be ruled by one person and one ideology… I remember
writing my friend saying, “Dude, I’m not about this skinhead thing,” and
basically saying I want to drop out. But it didn’t go anywhere. The feeling
was just lost after I went back to the yard and everybody was like, “you’re
back!”… I was somebody, you know. The respect, the control, the power,
the Metzger factor, you know, being accepted and being the cool guy was
the most important thing. (Jason, Interview 38, December 20, 2015)
Jason’s recognition that “being accepted” was the most important thing
indicates a shift in his frame of reference and offers insight into how the
extremist lifestyle can retain its hold even when the individual begins to
question the belief system and their future involvement in the WSM.
Since the process of becoming a white supremacist involves a way of
life in which the individual comes to embody the extremist identity
physically (e.g., shave their head, display racially themed tattoos), it
is common for participants to avoid friends and family members who
oppose their white supremacist activism while a member (Simi et al.,
2017). By disengaging, participants resign their extremist social networks
and feelings of control, power, and respect. However, these individuals
must rebuild trust from the individuals they previously separated from
or abandoned in the process. In this way, the fear of finding them-
selves shunned or rejected by family and peer relationships and having
to undertake the daunting task of rebuilding a new group of peers
functioned as a barrier to extremist disengagement.
It is important to note that white supremacist activism is not a role
that is switched on and off as one enters and exits marches, demon-
strations, or organizational meetings. Instead, white supremacist activism
17 More Than Walking Away … 457
is central to self-identity as a moral status that permeates thoughts and
interactions across countless movement and non-movement situations
(King, 2004). These actions involve an expression of white supremacist
identity and can be viewed as accounts (Scott & Lyman, 1968; see also
Orbuch, 1997) provided by each member to others (and themselves)
that demonstrate committed activism. A willingness to participate in
violent and non-violent crimes, don racially themed tattoos, and struc-
ture their daily lives around white supremacy is intrinsically linked to
one’s commitment to the cause (Windisch et al., 2020a; Windisch &
Simi, 2022). Consequently, participants discussed how negative baggage
or “snares” (Moffitt, 1993) such as a criminal record, a lack of educa-
tion, or receiving racially themed tattoos obstructed their transition to a
conventional lifestyle. For example,
I think a lot of people want to get out and struggle. Like me and Cliff,
we was so deep in, and we tried to climb out, and we tried to do the right
thing. We’re trying to get our life together, but we’ve got obstacles… we’re
stuck with that image. I mean, Cliff’s whole face is tattooed. He’s stuck
with, you know, negativity and going to prison and things, you know,
plus not having any work experience and relevant skills, so much about
this life has been wrapped up in the skinhead world. (Marjorie, Interview
15, September 4, 2015)
Even though Marjorie’s disengagement was relatively short compared to
most of the sample—unfolding over nine months—her account illus-
trates the lingering obstacles associated with exiting the extremist culture,
including managing a white supremacist social stigma (Simi & Futrell,
2009). While incarceration has been found to function as a push factor
away from extremist activities (Bubolz & Simi, 2015), our findings
highlight how prior histories of incarceration can also function as imped-
iments to successful disengagement due to the social stigma associated
with their status not only as “extremists” but also as “convicts” (also see
Jensen et al., 2020). Cliff and Marjorie structured their entire way of
life around white supremacy. Cliff’s emphasis on getting racially themed
facial tattoos and pouring their energy into the movement at the expense
458 S. Windisch et al.
of gaining work experience or an education highlights these participants’
level of embeddedness within the extremist organization.
Severing Connections with the White Supremacist
Ideology
A third and final barrier to decreasing their level of embeddedness
involved severing connections with the white supremacist ideology.
Ideologies are ideas formed based on beliefs, experiences, and education
that aim to delineate an issue and offer solutions to associated problems
(Marx & Engels, 1935). As the understanding of ideology progressed, a
consensus has emerged among behavioral and social scientists that white
supremacists, like many other social groupings, rely heavily on unifying
ideologies (Blee, 2002). These creeds serve to establish group boundaries
and provide the basis for a broad range of cultural practices that include
everything from violent acts to ordinary lifestyle preferences such as what
types of foods to eat and clothes to wear (Simi & Futrell, 2015). In turn,
these cultural practices help develop solidarity and commitment neces-
sary to sustain a collective identity (Fantasia, 1988). Because extremists
become entirely enmeshed in daily rituals and basic living practices orga-
nized around the group’s racist ideology, our participants’ disengagement
process was often prolonged as these individuals struggled to envision
and construct a new life devoid of these guiding principles. For example,
The year leading up to my exit was the hardest... you know, I’m giving
up what I’ve believed for decades. I was so hardwired. I didn’t know how
to deal with it. I had to strip away my beliefs that guided me, and worse,
I’m not just leaving an organization; I felt I was letting down my people.
That was the struggle. (Tyler, Interview 1, June 25, 2015)
Throughout his interview, Tyler discussed how adhering to white
supremacist ideologies became a struggle and generated an internal
dilemma after entering parenthood. On the one hand, as a white
supremacist male, Tyler was encouraged to internalize the role of a
racial warrior, a guardian of law and order, and, if needed, a martyr.
These ideologies gave him meaning, purpose, and a sense of duty. On
17 More Than Walking Away … 459
the other hand, the foundation of white supremacist ideology is hate-
directed beliefs, feelings, and behavior, including genocidal fantasies
against Jewish people, Blacks, Hispanics, sexual minorities, and anyone
else opposed to White racial privileges (Berbrier, 2000). While Tyler
initially planned to raise his children according to white supremacist
beliefs, the erratic skinhead lifestyle that involved partying, illicit drug
use, and racial violence became incompatible with his new role as a
caretaker and guardian. This realization, however, did not cause Tyler
to renounce his extremist belief system but rather to be unwilling to
indoctrinate his children in white supremacy. As Tyler indicates, such a
predicament generated feelings of guilt and betrayal as he felt he had let
down the white race, which helps explain why it took him more than two
years to disengage from violent extremism. In particular, Tyler’s account
underscores the overlap between the white supremacist ideology and the
white supremacist identity. The process of severing both connections
prolonged his disengagement as he struggled to redefine his role away
from extremism and incorporate a new ideological framework into his
daily life.
In addition to establishing and making racial boundaries more
acceptable and, in some cases, expected (Lamont et al., 2001), white
supremacist ideologies can also function as narratives that counterbal-
ance behavioral inconsistencies and flaws of the movement and its
members. For instance, over the last several decades, white supremacists
have spread the pseudo-religious doctrine known as “Christian Identity,”
which depicts non-Whites as subhuman and Jewish people as the literal
descendants of Satan (Barkun, 1994). As part of this belief system, white
supremacists are educated on the necessity of struggle, sacrifice, and hard-
ship as a path to redemption and the second coming of Jesus Christ.
As a result, when participants encounter feelings of doubt or ques-
tions regarding the movement’s authenticity, these feelings are interpreted
through the Christian Identity doctrine as both natural and necessary for
their future salvation. For example,
You’re so brainwashed with the ideology that it didn’t matter what
happens. You’re in it for the long haul… it’s all about how it is all neces-
sary and how eventually it justifies itself. Kind of an ends justifies the
460 S. Windisch et al.
means kind of thing and that the struggle is necessary for victory… So,
even when I was homeless and living in my car, I made excuses that I was
getting stronger, and that got me by for a while. Then I’d run out of gas
all over again, you know, that’s how it was for years. (Brittany, Interview
19, September 17, 2015)
The intensive nature of the white supremacy ideology is illustrated
by Brittany’s reference to the two years necessary to remove herself
from this disposition. In Brittany’s situation, her connection with white
supremacist ideologies functioned as a form of “life support” for her
continued involvement. Even after Brittany found herself homeless and
disavowed by her fellow group members, the white supremacist ideology
helped her rationalize this struggle as a necessary path to personal
strength and movement victory. For many, successful disengagement was
achieved by developing replacement doctrines (e.g., Buddhism, Chris-
tianity) that better function in their new environment. For example,
This is probably maybe over a year ago, yeah. So, I’m at like a swap meet
thing, and I buy some food, and there’s a Black guy sitting at a table, and
then there’s an empty table, but the first thing that pops in my head, “I
can’t sit there, at the table he’s sitting at.” And I’m like, “No, in the name
ofJesus,Iwillnow.”So,Igetmyfood,andImoveitovertothetable
where he’s sitting, and I start a conversation. Do you know what I mean?
Praise God. (Maddox, Interview 22, September 19, 2015)
Actors must refashion strong ideological orientations because these new
creeds will act as cognitive filters for future decision-making. If the indi-
vidual’s replacement ideological orientation is weak, they are more likely
to draw from previous experiences and continue to rely on old habits
when challenged in their new environment. The key point is that the
new ideological orientation must completely replace the previous belief
system.
17 More Than Walking Away … 461
Conclusion
While prior disengagement research has explored the various “push”
and “pull” factors that motivate a person to end their extremist careers
(Bjørgo & Carlsson, 2005; Horgan, 2009; Windisch et al., 2019), more
recent efforts have found that disengagement is much more encom-
passing than merely disengaging from its activities or physically removing
oneself from the group (Simi et al., 2017). To build on this line of
research, the focus of this current chapter is on barriers to disengagement.
Based on the life-history data, participants encountered a broad range
of barriers that prolonged their disengagement from violent extremism,
including severing connections with the white supremacist identity;
severing connections with the white supremacist lifestyle; and severing
connections with the white supremacist ideology. In addition, as part
of the disengagement process, these individuals decreased their level of
“embeddedness” within the group by developing replacement doctrines
(e.g., Buddhism, Christianity) that better function in their new environ-
ment; locating alternative outlets where they could channel their sense
of self-worth through such as family, religion, school, or work; and shed-
ding their “extremist” identity and adopting the new identity of “former”
extremist.
Overall, our investigation into these disengagement barriers under-
scores how exit is a multi-dimensional process characterized by numerous
“fits and starts” rather than a continuous, linear trajectory. This finding
is important, in part, because it indicates that extremist disengagement is
not prolonged and disrupted by a single life event but rather is restricted
and further impeded by the cumulative impact of the white supremacist
ideology, lifestyle, and identity. Rather than constituting three distinct
barriers, we view this collection as representing link components asso-
ciated with one’s level of embeddedness. As such, for an individual to
successfully disengage from extremism, it may be necessary for them
to untether themselves from all aspects of their previous lifestyle, belief
system, and identity. Failing to do so may prolong or derail the exiting
process entirely for someone trying to abstain from extremist activities or
physically remove themselves from the group.
462 S. Windisch et al.
Given the necessity and difficulty of untethering oneself from multiple
structural, emotional, and cognitive connections, we offer the following
recommendations for countering violent extremism and preventing
violent extremism service providers. In particular, social workers can help
find resources for extremists who are wanting to disengage. Like other
types of offenders, extremists need to know they are not alone and others
have encountered similar experiences, such as histories of trauma, drug
abuse, participation in violent offending (Windisch et al., 2020b), or
feelings of “residual” associated with the extremist lifestyle (Simi et al.,
2017). Social workers can locate peer support groups, and this may be
invaluable for certain types of extremists. For example, consider the social
stigma associated with being a white supremacist who has visibly racist
tattoos on their face, arms, or neck (Simi & Futrell, 2009). These indi-
viduals may have a challenging time finding a space to ventilate and
validate their stories. In this case, a social worker can help them identify
an appropriate support group.
At the same time, the long-term consequences of extremist partic-
ipation may also involve the need for assistance with mental health
professionals such as psychologists or psychiatrists. Mental health profes-
sionals can provide additional emotional support during and after the
individual’s disengagement. At its core, counseling should entail the
process of ventilation and validation (Office of Victims of Crime, 2000).
Ventilation refers to the process of allowing participants to retell their
life-history narrative. This may be challenging for extremists, but the
repetitive process allows them to make sense of extremist careers and
integrate it into their new “former” extremist identity. By retelling their
life-history narrative, the extremist integrates the experience into their
personal life story and ultimately gains a cognitive sense of control
over the past behavior decisions. Such an approach is useful as it helps
alleviate the individual’s long-term distress and fosters a strategy for
completing their disengagement and remaining disengaged. Such coun-
seling may also involve validation, which refers to how the mental health
professional confirms that the extremist’s reaction to their experience is
normal and expected. At this stage, the extremist should be reassured
that although their extremist career may have caused harm, he/she is
not “evil” or “bad” because of it. The extremist should be reminded that
17 More Than Walking Away … 463
anger, guilt, fear, and overwhelming sadness are normal responses to their
experiences. Using the same phrases that the individual uses in describing
his/her experiences can help validate their feelings.
As research continues to develop in this area, it would be useful
for future studies to more carefully trace how individuals’ network
embeddedness during involvement shapes their experiences following
disengagement. Additional analyses are also necessary to examine the
situational dynamics related to specific barriers more closely as they
identify additional situational, emotional, and cognitive barriers to disen-
gagement. Finally, future research should compare former activists across
a broad range of social movements, including other movements that
may also emphasize extreme hatred (e.g., violent jihadists) and former
members from other violent but less political subcultures (e.g., conven-
tional street gangs).
Acknowledgements This project was supported by Award No: 2014-ZA-BX-
0005, the National Institute of Justice, Office of Justice Programs, US Depart-
ment of Justice, the Harry Frank Guggenheim Foundation, and the National
Consortium for the Study of Terrorism and Responses to Terrorism (START)
project, “Recruitment and Radicalization among US Far-Right Terrorists” as
well as the Department of Homeland Science and Technology Directorate’s
Office of University Programs through Award Number 2012-ST-061-CS0001,
Center for the Study of Terrorism and Behavior (CSTAB) 2.1 made to START
to investigate the understanding and countering of terrorism within the US
The opinions, findings, and conclusions or recommendations expressed in this
publication/program/exhibition are those of the author(s) and do not neces-
sarily reflect those of the Department of Justice, the Department of Homeland
Security, START, or the Harry Frank Guggenheim Foundation.
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