When people first hear that I infiltrate neo-Nazi and other extremist organizations and then expose them publicly using my real name, their first reaction is disbelief. Then, once they’ve seen my work, they call me brave.
But the truth is, I don’t see myself as brave.
To be brave is to act despite fear. It means having the mental or moral strength to face danger or difficulty with resolve. But I don’t feel fear. I feel rage.
I am not afraid of neo-Nazis. I am not afraid of fascists. I am not afraid of armed militiamen who stockpile weapons and fantasize about a civil war. What I feel is anger—because I have seen them up close. I’ve sat quietly in their meetings. I’ve watched them train. I’ve read their chats. I’ve listened to their plans.
And if more people saw what I’ve seen, more people would be doing what I do. Without hesitation. Without fear. Because once you know who these people really are—once you’ve heard them in their own words—the only thing you’re left with is the compulsion to stop them.
I often say, only half-joking, that I’m a lot like the people I hunt. I’m motivated by hate. The difference is, I hate fascism.
Before I started infiltrating these ll groups, I didn’t spend much time thinking about Nazis. I didn’t worry about them. I didn’t see them as a real threat. Like a lot of people, I thought the word was being thrown around too casually. “Nazi,” “fascist”—those labels got applied to everyone. And that’s not new.
In 1944, George Orwell wrote an essay asking, “What is Fascism?” He said the word had been used so often and so broadly that it had lost almost all meaning. He describes the previous ten years: conservatives, socialists, communists, Catholics, nationalists, war resisters, supporters of the Allies while WWII was raging—everyone had been called a fascist by someone. And they meant it. And yet, Orwell said, buried underneath that mess, the word still meant something. It meant cruelty. It meant arrogance. It meant oppression. Orwell said that in English, most people would accept the word “bully” as a synonym for “fascist.”
It’s been eighty two years since he wrote that essay. And almost every word seems like it could have been written yesterday.
Because it wasn’t until I infiltrated Patriot Front—with a buddy we’ll call Gabriel—that I understood the word Nazi wasn’t being used metaphorically. From inside the organization, I wasn’t watching a bunch of confused young men who stumbled into extremism. These guys were calling themselves fascists. They were reading Mussolini. They were discussing Hitler. Not as a joke, not as a meme to get a rise out of someone on Twitter—but seriously. They were debating the merits of arguments written by national socialist – nazi – philosophers, who I had to look up to know who they were. Patriot Front members didn’t accidentally adopt policies that echoed Nazism. They sought out fascist propaganda. These are the words they use. They described what they were doing as self-radicalization.
And in 2020, during the height of the COVID pandemic, while the country was in crisis, I watched those same guys talk their way through a cost-benefit analysis of the idea of deliberately contracting the virus – getting it on purpose – and traveling to Black and brown neighborhoods to spread it. They believed there was a strong likelihood that they’d be fine. That as white men, they’d have better access to healthcare. And that the deaths that they would cause in these Black and brown neighborhoods would be worth the risk of potentially dying of what was then a novel disease killing hundreds of thousands of Americans. They saw COVID as a weapon. And what they were describing—without shame—was biological warfare. Ethnic cleansing. Genocide.
Three years earlier, in Charlottesville, their predecessors with Vanguard America gleefully shouted, “Fire the first shot of the race war.” They had national ambitions for what was happening in Charlottesville. After a member of Vanguard America, James Fields, ran his car into a crowd of anti-racist protestors, severely injuring dozens and killing Heather Heyer, they renamed their organization Patriot Front. Thomas Ryan Rousseau, Vanguard America’s leader on the ground in Charlottesville took their “blood and soil” server and members, gave it a red-white-and-blue rebrand, and largely succeeded in memory-holing the organization’s affiliation with that murderous terrorist. But in 2020, this renamed neo-Nazi organization was debating kicking off their race war with a virus instead.
And being there for that conversation in real-time was the moment I was changed. Maybe even radicalized.
It was the moment that fear would no longer be part of the calculus of whether I should engage in this work. It couldn’t be. Not when I look like them. Not when I blend in. Not when my background gives me access to their inner circles. I don’t fear them. I hunt them. And if I’m being honest, it’s not bravery. It’s instinct. When your fight-or-flight kicks in and you choose fight, that’s just your brain chemistry – it’s who you are.
In the years since, I’ve seen more. I’ve infiltrated more groups. I tried to warn the FBI before January 6th. I watched as law enforcement failed to stop the insurrection. I watched as Trump tried to burn the Constitution and crown himself a dictator. And I watched as more people—ordinary Americans—stepped up to do what our institutions wouldn’t.
Some became researchers. Some went undercover. Most of them come from all walks of life, have normal jobs, and fight for justice as a sort of part-time hobby. Others embrace the mission and lifestyle of Antifa. They wear that label proudly, like I do.
While Antifa is often portrayed as a movement of communists and anarchists, the truth is that anti-fascists come from a broad political spectrum. There are liberals, independents, socialists, conservatives, and even people who still call themselves Republicans who believe that fascism must be fought against. What unites us is not any one shared ideology—but a shared belief that fascism must never be given a chance to grow or exist in comfort or security. Antifascism is open. It’s welcoming. And yes—it’s patriotic.
Because Antifascism — Antifa — isn’t a slur. It’s a responsibility.
In this episode, I’m talking with journalist Christopher Mathias.
Chris spent more than a decade reporting for HuffPost, where he became one of the most respected journalists covering the American far right. He’s been on the ground at white supremacist rallies, inside courtrooms after hate crimes, and behind the scenes with antifascist investigators who are the first line of defense against rising extremism.
His new book, To Catch a Fascist, documents the insurgent fascist movement from the inside—and the decentralized network of people working to stop it.
I think that this book is going to be transformative for those of you who read it. If you’ve ever wondered why I do this work, or what I’ve seen that fuels me, this book can show you. And I believe that once you see it—once you really understand what we’re up against—you’ll feel the same compulsion that I do to act. Not because you’re fearless. But because it will affect you so deeply that it will trigger your survival instincts. And you will know that fascism must be confronted.
🎧 Listen to the full episode above or wherever you get your podcasts.
📘 Buy To Catch a Fascist by Christopher Mathias: https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/To-Catch-a-Fascist/Christopher-Mathias/9781668034767
📰 Read his Guardian investigation: https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2026/jan/30/antifa-unmasking-ice
📡 Follow Chris on Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/letsgomathias.bsky.social
💥 Start an Antifascist Book Club: https://veteransfightingfascism.org
🛠 Access our antifascist field manuals: https://taskforcebutler.org
P.S. This work—this podcast, this newsletter, this movement—is now my full-time job. I recently stepped into an unpaid role as President of Valor Media Network, and On Offense is now my primary source of income. If you believe in what I’m doing, consider becoming a paid subscriber. Every dollar helps support my family and sustain this work.
