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By MARK SCOTT

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WELCOME. THIS IS DIGITAL BRIDGE. I’m Mark Scott, POLITICO’s chief technology correspondent, and we’re doing something different this week. For the last three years, I’ve been tracking a global online movement, borne from the Covid-19 pandemic, that has radicalized millions. It has led to repeated offline violence supported by widespread conspiracy theories, growing distrust of Western democracy and a failure from politicians and officials to respond. I’m not going to lie; it’s become a weird fascination for me.

This is my effort to unpack what’s going on:

— A loosely affiliated network of increasingly radicalized online users has created sophisticated global connections via social media that have repeatedly spilled into the real world.

— The Covid-19 pandemic was the perfect crucible to jumpstart ties between disaffected people eager to find a greater meaning for how the world was changing around them.

— National security agencies across the West have struggled to respond, fearful of overstepping their mandate, unsure of how best to track online radicalization, and limited in what resources they have available.

WELCOME TO THE NEW WORLD ORDER

PRAISE FOR FARMERS’ PROTESTS IN FRANCE. Claims the Israel-Hamas conflict is an attempt by global elites to start World War III. Graphic attacks on Taylor Swift for her alleged role in keeping Donald Trump from regaining the White House. Three different events, three different countries. But behind each one lies a loose network of Covid-19 conspiracy theorists, hundreds of thousands of disgruntled social media users, and a smattering of ultra-violent extremist groups who have joined forces to create a global movement with one clear goal: to overturn the established order.

“It’s like a nuclear bomb,” Imran Ahmed, chief executive at the Center for Countering Digital Hate, a nonprofit organization that tracks such online activity and who has consulted with Western governments about how to combat violence resulting from online conspiracy theories, told me. “This is the creation of unlimited amounts of communication and the potential for it to go super viral and reach billions of people for zero cost. We have a limited window for getting people aware of the problem.”

I first came across this movement in the early days of Covid-19 (more on that below). At first, the groups — spread across Telegram, Facebook, TikTok, Discord and Reddit — felt different. They spoke multiple languages. They focused on domestic grievances. They included QAnon followers, far-right political operatives, and everyday social media users. Yet as the months turned into years, strange connections began to pop up. So-called Proud Boy American white nationalists started to talk about local Swedish politics. French left-leaning Yellow Vests activists quickly became experts in the American so-called deep state conspiracy against Trump.

What happened, based on Digital Bridge’s tracking of millions of social media posts across seven social networks primarily in North America, Europe, Australia and Latin America over the last three years, was the epitome of what the internet does best: bring people together. Often isolated online users found like-minded people who shared a similar worldview. One where Bill Gates is a worldwide enemy seeking to use the global public health crisis to enrich himself. One where “elites” want to suppress the little man (and it’s almost always a man). One where Vladimir Putin is heralded for his fight against Pizzagate-style “pedophiles” in Ukraine.

Not everyone involved in this bottom-up digital movement holds radicalized views. But extremist groups — the so-called Proud Boys white nationalist group in the United States, the Querdenken anti-lockdown brigade in Germany, and the English Defense League, an Islamophobic political group, in the United Kingdom — have embedded themselves into Telegram channels, Facebook groups and Discord online messaging communities to recruit would-be followers to their cause. Picture an online atmosphere like the “Star Wars” Mos Eisley cantina, where white nationalists routinely rub shoulders with “red-pilled” soccer moms who believe Covid-19 is an attempt to sterilize children.

This isn’t just an online phenomenon. As the ties between these disparate groups became stronger — fueled by multilingual influencers and auto-translation plug-ins for social media — they have used the digital movement to organize offline protests. That includes jumping on global political events like last year’s political violence in Brazil or skyrocketing energy prices in Germany to mount like-minded protests elsewhere. This is directed, primarily, by Telegram channels, where more active members of the radicalized movement share viral memes to galvanize support, suggest how to frame potential protests, and promote similar offline activities in other countries to demonstrate that people’s concerns are widespread.

Tragically, this can also end in violence. Repeated shootings — in Germany, the U.S., New Zealand and Slovakia — have all shown signs of the assailants having become radicalized, in part because of their involvement in this global movement. Many posted online manifestos — still readily accessible within this digital community and reviewed by Digital Bridge — that are riddled with references to the so-called Great Replacement Theory, a popularly held racist belief the West is being overrun by migrants; antisemitic tirades also prevalent within this movement; and calls-to-arms for others to follow their example. Sadly, these shooters are viewed by many as heroes for the cause.

THE ROLE OF THE COVID-19 PANDEMIC

JAKUB, A 23-YEAR-OLD STUDENT FROM COLOGNE, did not have a good pandemic. Stuck at home with little to do, the German, whose last name Digital Bridge is withholding to protect his identity, turned to social media for comfort. Within months, Jakub, who has now left the movement, was engrossed in a conspiracy-laden online world where falsehoods like the World Economic Forum’s “Great Reset” project — aimed at reinventing the global economy for a post-Covid world — was, in fact, a ruse by global elites to use vaccines to enslave the wider population. “It was addictive,” he told me. “The way people talked with each other, it felt like a community that spoke directly to me.”

As countries scrambled to counter a staggering public health crisis, existing conspiracy groups — some, like those associated with the anti-vaccine movement, dated back to the early days of the internet — seized on Covid-19 as a means to recruit new converts. White nationalists quickly blamed immigrants for spreading the disease and accused governments of prolonging the crisis for their own gain. Right-wing politicians, including France’s Marine Le Pen and former U.S. President Donald Trump, accused Muslims and other minority groups of profiting from the pandemic.

“The impact the Covid pandemic had on global extremist mobilization, I really do think, was a total game changer,” said Milo Comerford, head of counter-extremism policy and research at the Institute for Strategic Dialogue, a London-based think tank. “It provided people with a compelling and elaborate worldview that made it clear who the enemy was, that gave a clear focus for whom to blame and, at its most extreme, provided justification for violence and attacks on minorities and harassment of officials and public health workers.”

While Covid-19 has, thankfully, regressed in people’s minds, its effects in fast-tracking connections between once-separate online communities cannot be overstated. It represented a perfect storm for mass digital mobilization. Almost all of us were stuck at home, and often — like Jakub — turned to social media for meaning. The once-in-a-lifetime moment fostered simmering discontent about government overreach and the perception of those in power seeking to control people’s lives. Faced with such global uncertainty, many became isolated, depressed and eager for simple answers — prime territory for potential radicalization.

Into this void, social media offered a solution. In Germany, online influencers like Oliver Janich and Evan Herman garnered audiences in the hundreds of thousands via Telegram after repeatedly sharing Covid-19 conspiracy theories that the country’s politicians were to blame for the pandemic. In the U.S., gun-toting protesters descended on local school board meetings in opposition to mask mandates, and then uploaded these videos onto TikTok. In the U.K., the so-called White Rose anti-Covid group — named after a similar movement created in opposition to Nazi Germany — became intertwined with the country’s far right, routinely sharing conspiracy theories including, for example, Covid-19 vaccines harming children.

“It is a war. And it is war on our children. So Fight!!” said a British Telegram user within a White Rose group after sharing a video of an anti-lockdown protest organized by Tommy Robinson, a local far-right activist. These messages no longer stay local. German Telegram users regularly cheer American acts of resistance against alleged government control. British far-right extremists on Facebook spread obscure anti-vax theories from Australia. French-speaking Canadian Twitter users translate anti-lockdown propaganda from America and repost it widely with counterparts in France.

What the pandemic did more than anything was cement ties between like-minded people across the West — bonds that have continued despite the waning of the pandemic. It built a coherent worldview for those seeking to explain the unexplainable. It also cemented well-defined communication channels that, on a dime, can jump on world events to flood the zone with conspiracy-laden material. That’s what happened in 2022, when an obscure Covid-related truckers’ protest in Canada garnered global attention. Within days, social media users, in multiple languages, had banded together in support of this protest, using coordinated messaging developed via online platforms, to rally global backing, including similar offline protests in other major Western capitals. That pattern has repeated ever since.

BY THE NUMBERS

NATIONAL SECURITY (LACK OF) RESPONSE

NATIONAL SECURITY OFFICIALS KNOW THIS IS A PROBLEM. My discussions with many of these Western policymakers, who were granted anonymity to describe governments’ responses, have tracked the rise of this bottom-up online community since the Covid-19 pandemic. There is a realization that many aren’t truly radicalized — but that, buried within this movement, there are lone-wolf actors or coordinated groups that do represent a direct threat to public safety.

But how to find that needle in a haystack? Officials acknowledge it’s a difficult balance between legitimately tracking extremist groups and overreaching on surveilling citizens who, while often sharing distasteful views, have done nothing illegal. Many national security agencies have limited ability to monitor domestic groups, and therefore have turned to tracking those outside their borders. Germany has gone the furthest with its domestic surveillance of would-be extremists, though that’s an outlier because of that country’s own history of radicalization.

For now, the Western national security apparatus is not set up to keep tabs on this cross-border movement in ways that don’t undermine people’s fundamental rights of free speech and privacy. So far, there’s a reliance on platforms to do the heavy lifting. Yet over the past two years, that has become harder than ever, since many in this radicalized movement have left more mainstream platforms like Facebook and YouTube for fringe alternatives like Telegram and Rumble with little, if any, content-moderation oversight.

WONK OF THE WEEK

THE PHILOSOPHICAL UNDERPINNING FOR THIS MOVEMENT, in large part, comes from French far-right thinker Renaud Camus and his so-called Great Replacement theory, a belief that Western “white” civilization is slowly being replaced by “non-white” populations.

His treaty — in French known as Grand Remplacement — was published in 2011, and focuses on the deconstruction of primarily French culture and civilization predominantly by Muslims living in the country. His racist beliefs subsequently have become the calling card for those within this online movement who attack outsiders — almost exclusively migrants — for allegedly denigrating Western society.

“The destruction of Europe’s Europeans and their civilization is the crime against humanity of the 21st Century,” he wrote on X this week.

THEY SAID WHAT, NOW?

“The pandemic created a set of conditions that seems almost tailor-made for violent extremists seeking to advance their work,” Nicholas Rasmussen, former head of Global Internet Forum to Counter Terrorism, told U.S. lawmakers. “Between health restrictions, economic impacts, social isolation, and increased political polarization, it is clear that the pandemic has exacerbated existing cleavages and anxieties across society.“

WHAT I’M READING

— Islamic jihadist groups are borrowing heavily from Western far-right groups to blend extremist views with next-generation memes and content-moderation avoidance techniques to spread their messages to a wide online audience, argues Moustafa Ayad from the Institute for Strategic Dialogue.

— Far-right and extremist groups believe artificial intelligence tools and chatbots, in particular, are inherently politically aligned to their cause, based on research from Liram Koblentz-Stenzler and Uri Klempner for the Global Network on Extremism and Technology.

— Europol outlines the threat from far-right, left-leaning and so-called ethno-nationalist extremist groups in its latest Terrorism Situation and Trends report.

— Germany’s domestic intelligence service outlines the different parts of the country’s right-wing extremism movement. Take a look here.

— The first wave of January 6 rioters in Washington, D.C., was disproportionately composed of members of extremist groups like the Proud Boys, conspiracy theorists attached to the QAnon movement, and those holding antisemitic and racist views, according to the final report of the U.S. House of Representatives’ Select January 6th Committee.

— Bàrbara Molas from the International Center for Counter-Terrorism analyzes the similarities between extremist attacks on the Reichstag in Berlin, Capitol Hill in Washington and the Supreme Court in Brasilia. Take a look here.