I spent a year undercover as a far-right activist. Here’s seven things I learned

For a little more than a year, I was undercover in the British far right. I posed as Chris, newly interested in activism, while secretly feeding back information to my colleagues at HOPE not hate, Britain’s largest anti-extremism organisation. I lied to gain access to nine different racist groups, wearing a hidden camera to record what happened. It gave me nightmares. Here’s what I learned.

1. The far right is active, growing and dangerous

It’s easy to think of them as either lagered-up skinheads or basement-dwelling internet cranks. The reality is different. I met far-right activists building connections to powerful politicians, funded by Silicon Valley investors.

I even met one man who was drafting policy papers for the former prime minister Rishi Sunak. They are becoming increasingly sophisticated at concealing their intentions from the public. 

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2. Anyone can be in the far right

I met delivery drivers and academics, cleaners and aristocrats. There’s no one type of far-right activist. That said, 90% of the extremists I met were men. 

3. Far-right activism does not take place in a vacuum

When the racist riots exploded across the country last summer, they were motivated by anti-migrant hate. For years, far-right organisations like Britain First have been agitating against asylum seekers. While undercover with them, I handed out leaflets identifying a refugee hotel in Tamworth. Months later, it was attacked by arsonists. I still feel guilty about that.

4. Undercover journalism can be dirty, confusing work

In order to maintain my cover, I had to become an extremist myself, which meant protesting refugees and helping racist candidates stand for election. It also meant spending long days with dangerous people. I hung out in the back garden of Britain First’s leader Paul Golding, a trained cage fighter convicted of harassment. I gave a lift in my car to Andy Frain, a former football hooligan nicknamed ‘Nightmare’, who once stabbed a police officer. I attended a march of chanting neo-Nazis in Warsaw. I felt justified reporting on these extremists, but also a bit conflicted. Some of them told me about their personal lives. I knew that one day I would have to sell them out. That’s why my book is called Year of the Rat: I wanted to acknowledge that I did something grubby.

Read more:

• The radical right have stolen the centre left’s clothes – but it’s not too late to fight back
• Would banning the EDL actually work? Here’s how to tackle the far-right ideology behind UK riots
• Far-right, nationalist football hooligans don’t realise who the real enemy is

5. There’s nothing glamorous about undercover journalism

I pretended to be Chris, a corporate drone with a job so boring nobody would want to ask me about it – I was a strategy consultant in support function optimisation. I wore my drabbest clothes, a white shirt, navy trousers and a practical anorak, designed to avoid scrutiny. Most of the time undercover, I just had to listen. I sat at the back of extremist conferences, listening to fantasies about deporting Jews, Muslims, and Black people from Europe. 

6. Exposure was my biggest worry

I would repeat “Chris, Chris, Chris” in my head before going undercover. The consequences of being exposed in a group of paranoid far-right activists could be very nasty. My colleagues and I would prepare for three or four hours to practise lines and anticipate difficult conversations. But no matter how much we planned, there were always near misses. Once, a far-right activist tapped my chest and put his hand on my camera. Another time, at the pub with a racist influencer, I offered to buy a round on the Wetherspoons app. I pulled out my phone, and in full view of the table started typing in my real name and email address by mistake. Thankfully, nobody saw.

7. Some people in the far right deserve our sympathy

The younger male members were sad and lonely and they were being exploited. There’s no doubt that extreme, racist views appealed to them. But the best way to convince them to quit probably isn’t demonising them further and instead offering a more hopeful alternative.

Year of the Rat by Harry Shukman is out now (Vintage, £20). You can buy it from the Big Issue shop on bookshop.org, which helps to support Big Issue and independent bookshops.

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