REVIEW: NEO-NAZI TERRORISM AND COUNTERCULTURAL FASCISM

Spencer Sunshine's Call to Vigilance

Sunshine in Dark Times

I opened Spencer Sunshine’s Neo-Nazi Terrorism and Countercultural Fascism: The Origins and Afterlife of James Mason’s Siege with a sense of urgency and unease.

As someone who has spent years fighting far-right entryism in occult circles, Sunshine’s work hit close to home. His analysis of far-right subcultural strategies felt eerily familiar, mirroring battles I’ve personally fought in fringe spiritual communities.

This book arrives at a perilous moment, one where history threatens to repeat itself, and its significance and timeliness cannot be overstated. Sunshine has given us more than a history lesson; he’s handed us a warning and a weapon. It’s the kind of obligatory reading anyone concerned with modern extremism should dive into.

Mapping the Far-Right Subculture Playbook

Sunshine offers a meticulous excavation of an insidious lineage: how neo-Nazi terrorism has intertwined with counterculture over decades. At the heart of his narrative is James Mason’s Siege – a collection of newsletters so extreme and iconoclastic that it has become the “bible” of aspiring neo-Nazi terrorists, including the notorious Atomwaffen Division. Sunshine documents, for the first time, the origins of Siege and how Mason’s violent vision took root.

We learn that Mason’s ideology didn’t arise in a vacuum. It splintered out of the 1970s American neo-Nazi scene, when factions broke from the Nazi old guard to pursue armed, revolutionary tactics. Sunshine traces how these early schisms gave birth to a terrorist fringe, setting the stage for Mason’s radical ideas. Then, in a twist that carries unsettling resonance for those of us in counterculture, Sunshine unveils how four 1980s countercultural figures – underground musician Boyd Rice, musicologist Michael Moynihan, Feral House publisher Adam Parfrey, and occultist Nikolas Schreck – resurrected and promoted Mason’s work.

Through obscure zines, edgy music, and occult fanfare, this clique bridged the gap between neo-Nazi extremism and alternative culture. Sunshine exposes these “hidden connections between a countercultural clique and violent neo-Nazis” that set the template for today’s neo-Nazi underground.

Reading this, I felt a chilling validation. The far right has long used subcultural edgelord tactics – cloaking hate in countercultural cool – to lure in the disaffected. Sunshine’s research shows this strategy isn’t new; it’s the same playbook being run again with modern tools. By charting the far right’s evolution through Mason’s saga, Sunshine has, in effect, written a definitive history of neo-Nazi “edgelords” and how they weaponize culture. The book’s depth of archival work and interviews shines through, yet it never feels academic in the pejorative sense – it’s gripping and relentlessly relevant.

When Fascism Creeps into Occulture

Sunshine’s analysis resonated deeply with my own experiences in occulture (occult subculture). For years, I’ve been blowing the whistle on fascist infiltration in spiritual communities, particularly within Thelema, a tradition that has attracted more than its share of far-right opportunists.

I’ve often faced scorn for speaking up; early on, “when I first began voicing my concerns about the creeping ultra-reactionary and outright fascistic elements in my corner of occulture – Thelema – I was told my criticisms were driven by jealousy”. Some accused me of hysteria or professional rivalry, willfully ignoring the very real fascist creep I was witnessing. But Sunshine’s work vindicates those warnings. He illustrates that what I saw in miniature is part of a much larger pattern: fascists do target countercultures, from music scenes to occult orders, as fertile ground for recruitment and radicalisation.

A personal experience from my own path highlights how fringe spiritual communities like Thelema are vulnerable to deliberate infiltration by fascist actors. Back in 2018, a group calling itself “Thelema (Official)” suddenly appeared, not as a genuine circle of devoted seekers or mystics, but as a vehicle for far-right extremists embedded within traditional occult organizations like the O.T.O. and A∴A∴. This was not the first time such individuals attempted to co-opt Thelema; prior efforts included a small, short-lived group with an openly provocative name referencing the Confederate legacy, signaling a disturbing blend of occult posturing with white supremacist nostalgia.

At the center of this insidious revival was a figure so notorious for his neo-Nazi zealotry that even the O.T.O. formally expelled him.¹ Undeterred, he openly boasted about establishing paramilitary-style camps under occult guises in the American South, using these settings to recruit members for extremist militias like the Proud Boys and Oathkeepers. His initiatives, though ephemeral, revealed a clear pattern: occult or spiritual groups serving as camouflage for far-right organizing. Attempts to rebrand violent, exclusionary ideologies as “tradition,” “strength,” or even “mystical heritage” prey on spiritual seekers attracted to transgression and the occult’s outsider ethos.

When such actors are bold enough to crow about an “Iron Youth Camp” (chilling words, if ever there were), it’s clear we in the occult community face the same menace Sunshine details in Siege’s afterlife. It’s precisely the kind of subcultural fascism that Sunshine’s book traces historically – and it’s happening right now in our spiritual backyards.

History Repeating

The parallels between Sunshine’s historical account and today’s realities point to a sobering truth: the world has failed to learn from the events of 2014 to 2020. We are at a crucial moment to become active again, because the far-right’s tactics that once seemed fringe have gone mainstream and cyclic.

I remember 2014 as a harbinger, a year when an Internet harassment campaign called Gamergate erupted, alongside the Russian invasion of Crimea, and should have been recognised as the canary in the coal mine. Indeed, Steve Bannon – then chair of Breitbart – saw in Gamergate the raw energy of an angry young male base and harnessed it; that “culture war that began in games now has a senior representative in the White House,” noted one observer in retrospect. Bannon helped cultivate troll armies and alt-right outrage (often via protégés like Milo Yiannopoulos) and rode that wave straight into Trump’s 2016 campaign.

Trump’s first rise to power was not a political fluke; it was fueled by an alliance of reactionary ideologues and tech billionaires who had been laying the groundwork for years. Silicon Valley “technofeudalists” like Peter Thiel openly questioned democracy and bankrolled projects to undermine it. In the shadows, far-right thinkers like Curtis Yarvin (a.k.a. Mencius Moldbug) and Nick Land spun dystopian theories of neo-monarchy and racial hierarchy that found surprisingly receptive ears. Thiel, enamoured with Yarvin’s “Dark Enlightenment” vision of a CEO-run state, echoed its tenets (infamously stating that “I no longer believe that freedom and democracy are compatible” in 2009) and poured money into neo-reactionary ideas. Yarvin’s writings circulated among Trump’s circle – Steve Bannon and other alt-right strategists reportedly passed around Moldbug’s blogs as gospel. In effect, these men seeded an ideological landmine under our democratic institutions, one that detonated in 2016 and spewed shrapnel far beyond.

Yet even after the shock of Trump’s presidency and its bitter finale in 2020, the lesson went unheeded by too many. When Trump was voted out, some sighed with relief and went back to brunch, believing the nightmare was over. But as I angrily noted above, they didn’t vanish with the last election – they burrowed deeper.

The January 6th 2021 insurrection attempt was a flashing red light: it proved that a significant network of far-right militants and enablers had only grown emboldened. QAnon conspiracists, Proud Boys, Oathkeepers, neo-Nazis – they didn’t disappear when Biden took office; they regrouped and adapted. Now, in 2025, we face the very real possibility of a far-right resurgence – call it Trump 2.0 or something even more refined and dangerous. We’re seeing renewed assaults on truth and pluralism worldwide, from election denialism to culture-war hysteria. It feels like 2014 and 2020 all over again – only this time, the warning signs are blinking even more furiously, if we dare to look.

Sunshine’s book lands at this pivotal juncture as both a history and a cautionary tale. It reminds us that the far-right’s current strategies (mass recruitment online, subculture radicalisation, pseudo-intellectual justifications for authoritarianism) have identifiable precedents. We ignore these parallels at our peril. The same corrosive forces that drove 2014’s online radicalisation and 2020’s democratic crisis are still at work – and in some cases, they’ve metastasised. Thelema’s ongoing infiltration by fascist actors is just one niche example; similar infiltration is happening in yoga and wellness circles, in heavy metal and folk music scenes, in gaming communities and even in science fiction fandoms. The recent history Sunshine chronicles shows how quickly the poisonous weeds can spread when left unchecked.

A Call to Vigilance, Solidarity, and Action

Reading Neo-Nazi Terrorism and Countercultural Fascism has been more than an intellectual exercise for me – it felt like a rallying cry. Sunshine doesn’t prescribe activism in a step-by-step way, but the implications of his research lit a fire in my conscience.

This is a crucial moment to get active again, to stand up in our various communities – occult, artistic, online, local – and say “No pasaran!” to fascism in all its disguises. His book underscores that vigilance is the price of freedom in subcultures as much as in mainstream politics. We must become, in effect, our brothers’ and sisters’ keepers in every scene we inhabit: watching for the telltale signs of fascist creep (the bigoted dog whistles, the sudden appearance of Nazi symbolism repackaged as “tradition” or “edgy humor,” the demonisation of minorities or calls for violence couched in insider jargon) and shining a light on them.

Just as Sunshine dug through archives to unearth hidden alliances, we too should be unafraid to unmask those who infiltrate our spaces. Silence and apathy are gifts to the fascist creep; knowledge and solidarity are our antidotes.

On a personal note, Siege and its afterlife had long been a kind of boogeyman in my peripheral vision, a dark influence I knew of but perhaps didn’t fully grapple with until now. Sunshine’s work brought it into sharp focus, and instead of leaving me despondent, it oddly filled me with resolve. Yes, the picture he paints is frightening: a persistent network of neo-Nazi terrorists and fellow travelers who will happily leverage music, magick, or memes to grow their ranks. But information is power. By connecting the dots from the 1970s to today, Sunshine has empowered us to see the continuities in far-right tactics. And once you see the pattern, you can predict it, counter it, maybe even break it.

I am profoundly grateful for Sunshine’s book, not just as an activist or occult practitioner, but as a citizen who believes in a pluralistic and open society. This book armed me with historical context and analytical tools that will inform how I engage in anti-fascist work going forward. It’s a reminder that none of us fighting this fight are truly alone or crazy; we’re part of a longer struggle that can be won if we learn from the past. The publication of Neo-Nazi Terrorism and Countercultural Fascism is timely indeed: coming on the heels of a tumultuous decade, it feels like both a chronicle and a manual for the days ahead. Sunshine has given us clarity, and with clarity comes the courage to act.

I’m also pleased to note that Neo-Nazi Terrorism and Countercultural Fascism is now finally available in paperback at an accessible price, making it easier for a wider audience to engage with this crucial work. For those looking for a concise overview before diving in, Sunshine recently published a clear and thoughtful summary of the book in an article on The Quietus, which serves as an excellent introduction to its key themes and arguments.

In closing, I reiterate: we absolutely cannot afford to sit back, hoping this tide will ebb on its own. It won’t. Fascism doesn’t fade away without firm resistance – it must be confronted wherever it lurks, from the dark web to our local lodge meetings.

Spencer Sunshine’s book is a crucial resource in this ongoing struggle, illuminating the links between yesterday’s neo-Nazi edgelords and today’s occult infiltrators, tech barons, and demagogues. Armed with this knowledge, and standing shoulder to shoulder in solidarity, we have a fighting chance to stem the tide of resurgent fascism. The hour is late, but not too late, and so let’s heed the warning, honour those who sounded the alarm before, and step forward. It’s time to walk.

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1. It’s important to note that despite being expelled from O.T.O., he still proudly presents himself as a spokesperson of “Outer College”, the A∴A∴ lineage formerly run by the late J. Daniel Gunther and currently helmed by O.T.O.'s very leader, Bill Breeze / Hyemneaus Beta.

More on both these figures here: