A Global History of White Nationalism PDF

Introduction: Toward a global history of white nationalism Daniel Geary, Camilla Schofield, and Jennifer Sutton T he morning after the 2016 Brexit referendum, Donald Trump landed at his Scottish golf resort and tweeted that Britons “took their country b...

Introduction: Toward a global history of white nationalism Daniel Geary, Camilla Schofield, and Jennifer Sutton T he morning after the 2016 Brexit referendum, Donald Trump landed at his Scottish golf resort and tweeted that Britons “took their country back, just like we will take America back.” During his presidential campaign that summer, Trump forged a close alliance with Nigel Farage, leader of the United Kingdom Independence Party and the most prominent advocate of British withdrawal from the European Union. Farage already knew Trump’s campaign manager, Steve Bannon, who hailed the rise of right-wing European nationalism as executive chairman of the alt-right website, Breitbart. In November, Farage was the first foreign leader to meet the president-elect; pleased with their successes on both sides of the Atlantic, they posed for a memorable celebratory photograph before a glimmering set of golden elevator doors in Trump Tower. Trump and Farage’s image marked a victory in a struggle by linked resurgent white nationalists on both sides of the Atlantic to “take back” their countries from non-white immigrants and internationalist liberal elites. Many observers have seen the surprise success of Brexit and Trump as similar but coincidental events. Few have recognized the historical connections. Similarly, many have been baffled by the international spread of white supremacist violence as authorities and the mass media wrongly depict such attacks as the work of isolated loners rather than 1 Global white nationalism as emanating from a dispersed political movement. Similar bonds, real and imagined, link Trump and Farage at the level of electoral politics and connect the 2016 assassination of pro-Remain Labour MP Jo Cox in Yorkshire by a neo-Nazi proclaiming “Britain First”; the 2018 killings at a Pittsburgh synagogue by a white supremacist who believed that Jews were orchestrating white genocide by abetting immigration from Latin America; and the 2019 murder of Muslims in Christchurch, New Zealand by an Australian white supremacist. Both the rise of ethnona- tionalism in electoral politics and of white supremacist violence in the English-speaking world need to be understood as related developments in a longer history of exchange among white nationalists in Britain, the U.S., and other former British settler colonies. Because white nationalists are primarily concerned with the racial integ- rity of states, they have wrongly been assumed to be parochial in their politics, focused solely on domestic issues. In fact, transnational ties and transnational flows of culture and capital undergirded the pursuit of white racial nationalism long before the internet and social media helped enable such connections. International links, both real and imagined, have sus- tained white nationalists over the last fifty years. Global visions of white- ness have inspired local movements. The success of Brexit, for example, emboldened Trump’s nativist supporters to see themselves as part of a global movement that could achieve power in the United States. Trump’s victory in turn inspired the Christchurch killer who praised the U.S. presi- dent as a “symbol of renewed white identity and common purpose.”1 We need to understand the history of these connections if we are to grasp what has sustained white nationalism despite global trends toward liberation and equality, and we need to confront why such an outlook still resonates strongly enough for some to martyr themselves for its cause. White nationalism is an ideology that asserts national identity and belonging in terms of European descent. Accordingly, white national- ists see their countries as threatened by immigration and social advance- ment by non-whites. They contend that national identity and belonging must be built around racial whiteness—rather than culture, language, or place—and that it is the whiteness of the nation’s past, present, and 2  Introduction future that ensures its continued historical development and survival. The fundamental ideas of white nationalists are hardly new. Yet they have been formulated since the mid-twentieth century as a politics of reaction to the promise of racial equality and decolonization. The term “white nationalism” was first coined in 1970 by white supremacists who sought to create a false equivalency with black nationalism. Though the numbers of self-identified “white nationalists” remain small, their ideas continue to resonate broadly, impacting contemporary debates about global demo- graphic change, national identity, and mass migration.2 We treat “race” in this volume as an unstable social construct, originat- ing in the colonial history of the dispossession, extermination, and sub- ordination of native populations and in the transatlantic slave trade and establishment of plantation economies based on enslaved labor. The resil- iency of white nationalist ideas around race, articulated at both the margins and the center of popular politics, makes sense when one understands that within living memory expressly racist policies were hegemonic in the U.S. and Britain’s settler colonies. At the British Empire’s zenith, its advocates claimed that the rule of law, free trade, and parliamentary sovereignty were natural virtues of the “English race.” At the turn of the twentieth century, American elites shared with British imperialists a discourse of English racial heritage termed “Anglo-Saxonism” that was used to justify the subjuga- tion of Native Americans, the subordination of African Americans, and the possession of its own overseas empire. According to Anglo-Saxonism, white, Protestant, English-speaking men naturally made modern nations. This racialized modernity is based on the presumption that only whites can govern and that the empowerment of non-whites is therefore an existential threat to white self-government. Though Anglo-Saxonism remained a pre- vailing ideology among British and American elites for much of the twen- tieth century, in different places and times throughout the English-speaking world, “whiteness” was defined differently, most broadly to encompass anyone of European descent.3 Anglo-Saxonism’s cherished ideal of a “white man’s country” reserving self-government and economic opportunity to whites may no longer be dominant as it was a century ago, but neither has it disappeared. Popular 3 Global white nationalism historian Niall Ferguson still maintains that British colonial settler culture brought “modernity” to the world.4 Today some Brexiteers look to trade within an “Anglosphere” to reanimate this historical political tradition and harness racialized notions of “kith and kin” in the English-speaking world.5 Indeed, nostalgia for a past period of national glory in which white rule was unchallenged is a signature feature of today’s right-wing populists who seek to make their nations great again. Any account of white nationalism’s influence today must take account of this longer history and also recognize that profound and persistent structures of white supremacy remain deeply rooted (though too rarely acknowledged) in the English-speaking world. To understand the politics of racism in the present requires locating and examining the histories of modern white nationalism in global terms: as a response to decolonization, struggles for equal rights, mass migration, and postwar international institutions. This book aims to understand transnational relationships among white national- ists in the context of these major global events. As Western political and social elites professed a commitment to color-blind ideals, assumptions of white supremacy were challenged and reformulated.6 The histories traced in this book show that the declining legitimacy of overtly racist political expression produced new international alliances and new populist claims among white supremacists.7 As they saw themselves losing power locally, they looked abroad for allies. Countering liberal internationalist organizations such as the United Nations and the World Council of Churches, white nationalists increasingly adopted a rhetoric of ethnic populism, casting themselves as representatives of forgotten whites betrayed by globalist liberal elites. Even as they shifted their focus from opposing civil rights and preserving white rule in settler colonies to Islamophobia and opposing non-white immigra- tion, they articulated a consistent mindset stressing the need to preserve the ethnoracial character of their nations as “white men’s countries.” The roots of contemporary white nationalism By the late nineteenth century English-speaking whites throughout the world were drawing a global color line that marked out their own nations 4  Introduction as white men’s countries. Their policies restricted immigration to “desir- able” Europeans and limited non-whites’ right to vote to ensure whites’ ability to govern themselves. Though their aims were ethnonationalist, they developed ideas and policies in coordination with international networks. As historians Marilyn Lake and Henry Reynolds write, “The project of whiteness was thus a paradoxical politics, at once transnational in its inspiration and identification but nationalist in its methods and goals. The imagined community of white men was transnational in its reach, but nationalist in its outcomes, bolstering regimes of border protection and national sovereignty.”8 In 1900, the ideal of the “white man’s country” was broadly shared among whites of all classes even as it provoked tension between aggressive white settlers and cautious metropolitan elites. Nonetheless, the global color line was increasingly challenged over the course of the twentieth century. The industrialized slaughter of World War I undermined notions of European civilization’s superiority. After the war, the colonized increasingly demanded self-determination and a new generation of intellectuals discredited the pre- cepts of scientific racism.9 World War II, which pitted the Allies against a fascist enemy, also did much to discredit notions of racial hierarchy and subordination.10 The most important developments accelerated after World War II: the rise of national liberation movements and of movements for racial equality in existing nations. It was, as British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan put it to Australian Prime Minister Robert Menzies, “the revolt of the yellows and blacks from the automatic leadership of the whites.”11 Many liberal elites, over the course of the twentieth century, evolved from a white nationalist perspective toward color-blind or multicul- tural conceptions of their nations. For instance, in 1944, the Carnegie Corporation published Swedish social scientist Gunnar Myrdal’s An American Dilemma, an influential text calling for the gradual extension of equal rights to African Americans. In the 1920s, however, the foundation had funded studies to justify white minority rule in South Africa. Rejection of explicit white supremacy became one of the components of a new liberal internationalism, embodied in the United Nations. While the vio- lence of apartheid and Jim Crow continued unabated, in 1950 the United 5 Global white nationalism Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) released the first of its influential Statements on Race, drafted by an inter- national team of prominent scholars and rejecting any notions of racial superiority. Many metropolitan elites also came to embrace decoloniza- tion, and thereby contain it, envisioning it as a historical step forward into modernity.12 Those who adhered to explicit white supremacy, however, experienced this new racial liberalism as a “betrayal”; they shifted postwar white nationalism toward a populist perspective, arrayed against white elites—the “race traitors” within—as well as racial minorities. The decades after the end of World War II saw the break-up of the British Empire as nations across the Global South won independence. As European empires dismantled, the U.S. extended its influence among newly independent nations. Despite losing its own major colony of the Philippines in 1946, the U.S. emerged from World War II as the preemi- nent world power, in many ways continuing the European imperial project of making the world safe for global capitalism.13 The need to maintain good relations with new nations and win their support in the Cold War put considerable pressure on the U.S., U.K., and British dominions to dis- mantle domestic racial discrimination. As E. Franklin Frazier, the African American sociologist, anti-imperialist, and a principal author of the first UNESCO Statement on Race acerbically remarked in 1954, “The white man is scared down to his bowels, so it’s be-kind-to-the-Negroes decade at last.”14 Black activists and intellectuals in both the civil rights and anti-colonial nationalist movements saw themselves as fighting in a shared inter- national struggle to dismantle white supremacy.15 By the 1960s, though civil rights movements were unable to achieve their goal of full racial equality, they forced recognition of the formal legal equality of all citizens regardless of race. Landmark legislation prohibited racial discrimination. In 1963, the United Nations General Assembly adopted a Declaration on the Elimination on All Forms of Racial Discrimination; two years later, Ghanaian ambassador George Lamptey led the campaign to introduce a UN Convention against racial discrimination.16 Steeped in the language of human rights, this Convention condemned colonialism and apartheid, 6  Introduction affirmed equality before the law, and required its signatories to criminalize hate speech and institute national procedures to combat racial discrimina- tion. The UN helped propel the extension of anti-discrimination laws globally. The U.S. passed the Civil Rights Act in 1964, the death knell to the Southern system of Jim Crow, and followed that with the Voting Rights Act of 1965, making “one person, one vote” a reality. The U.K. passed the Race Relations Act in 1965, Canada its Multiculturalism Act in 1971, and Australia its Racial Discrimination Act in 1975. White supremacy was on the defensive. Yet ideas about whiteness and natural ability for self-government continued to shape understandings of global demography, anti-colonial violence, and uneven economic devel- opment. Racial anxieties ran through analyses of population growth in the Global South, for instance, echoing early twentieth-century panics about white “race suicide.”17 Anti-colonial violence was routinely de-politicized and depicted as an expression of savagery, a rejection of civilization.18 Whites continued to assert themselves as natural agents of modernity via, for instance, international development; their authority now increasingly drawn from an emphasis on technical expertise rather than any explicit “white man’s burden.” Tenets of the “white man’s country” were trans- muted by technocracy to appear universal or colorblind.19 Of course, the lack of explicit articulations of race is not equivalent to its true absence. As a vast scholarship has shown, whiteness derives its authority from “its seeming invisibility, its absence of particularity”; it is invested with “a universal register of value and meaning” as synonymous with civiliza- tion, the rule of law, commerce, the family, and freedom.20 Thus, even as white nationalists found themselves on the defensive in a new “anti-racist” age and deeply at odds with liberal internationalists, they were able to continue to appeal to these racially coded liberal ideals. Though white nationalism developed transnationally and in response to common international changes, it evolved asynchronously and asymmet- rically according to different local logics. The U.S. has a history of slavery, mass immigration, and subjugation of Native Americans that contrasts with Britain’s long history as an imperial metropole or the history of white minoritarian regimes in Rhodesia and South Africa. These differences are 7 Global white nationalism perhaps clearest in immigration policy changes and their demographic effects. The civil rights movement made the existence of racial quotas in U.S. immigration policy untenable, leading to the passage of the Hart- Cellar Act of 1965 which soon (unintentionally) led to a mass wave of emigration from Latin America, Asia, and Africa. Similarly, Australia dismantled its restrictionist White Australia policy in 1973, leading to a sharp increase in non-white immigration, especially from Asia. In Britain, however, the story was different. By the beginning of the twentieth century, Britain had small but established black communities, as well as larger racialized communities of Jewish and Irish settlement, in its major port cities. But it was in the aftermath of World War II that British sub- jects from Britain’s colonies and former colonies, together with migrants from Ireland, Italy, Poland, Hungary and across war-torn Europe, began to arrive in increasing numbers in search of economic opportunity and security. This moment is often marked by the 1948 London arrival of the ship Empire Windrush which carried migrants from the Caribbean.21 The non-white population in Britain increased tenfold by 1961. Then, as a result of domestic political opposition, the British government began to introduce migration controls.22 To signal that these controls were part of a wider government effort to benefit “race relations,” the government also passed new equality legislation modelled on that of the United States, but here the law accompanied the imposition of immigration restrictions rather than their relaxation. And in Rhodesia, the story was different again. Though the Rhodesian government restricted non-white immigra- tion, it desperately sought white immigrants as an existential necessity to bolster the numbers of whites in its white-minority government. In different national contexts, white nationalists adapted in similar ways to outlast the challenges against them: they persisted not simply by becoming “far right” fringe minorities but also by developing coded elec- toral appeals within major political parties. Everywhere, though, the array of forces against them led white nationalists to take up a defensive posture. In this new mode, white nationalists mobilized emotions of besiegement, resentment, loss, and nostalgia. As Bill Schwarz has written, “Those who found themselves embracing racial whiteness in these years, however, did 8  Introduction not do so, like their colonial forebears, as heroic makers of history. On the contrary, they did so as representatives of a defeated people, betrayed by those charged to lead them.”23 White nationalists’ sense of aggrieve- ment came from what they perceived as their betrayal by national elites in giving in to the demands of non-whites. It also relied on an international consciousness of the global decline of white supremacy. The populist language of aggrievement white nationalists developed in retreat enabled them to capture broad appeal when new forms of political activism—on both left and right—challenged the legitimacy of the postwar order and the political establishment. In response to the efforts to challenge white racial privilege in the 1960s and 1970s, a reactionary discourse emerged that rejected any liberal “guilt complex” over the long history of white supremacy and instead offered a counter-narrative of white victimization. Histories of “lost causes” were marshalled to this goal. As Paul Gilroy has examined, in Britain the loss of empire produced a melancholic attachment to the lost glories of the past. This widespread “postcolonial melancholia” led the British public, Gilroy argues, to compulsively revisit nostalgic versions of a heroic past—and, ironically, forget the historic ties of (an increasingly morally suspect) empire. In Britain, as in Australia and the American South, white nation- alists turned away from acknowledging the atrocities of white supremacy in their nation’s history; instead, their history is a history of heroism in defeat or, in Fintan O’Toole’s words, “heroic failure.”24 Australia’s Gallipoli campaign in World War I, America’s defeated Confederacy, and Britain’s potent myth of self-reliance at the retreat from Dunkirk in World War II all provide what Gilroy would call melancholic “dreamworlds” where white male heroism can be retrieved.25 A sense of resentment framed around the loss of “the nation” gave meaning to a wider set of social and political tensions in the period of decolonization and equal rights. The sexual revolution, student protests, and progressive legal reforms on marriage and abortion came to be viewed by many white nationalists as further examples of the destruction of national culture. Women’s liberation and the moral revolution of the late twentieth century played into fears of a declining white population. White 9 Global white nationalism nationalism is replete with anxious visions of lost white male authority: the threat to patriarchy underscored the loss of the “white man’s country.” Opposition to gender equality was a midwife to the birth of modern white nationalism. But gender intersected with white nationalism in another important way, too. Defending white women and white domesticity functioned both in the colonies and the metropole as a means to defend white supremacy, colonial violence, and the dehumanization of people of color.26 Updating a long tradition, white nationalists still promote fanta- sies of white women as victims; under threat from migrant rapists, black male sexuality, and Sharia law. From the civil rights era to the present, white nationalists have found a home in right-wing political parties whose leaders appealed to racism despite formally renouncing “race.” White nationalism fit within the broader constellation of ideas advocated by the transnational right whose critique of liberal internationalism also included asserting the place of social hierarchy, “law and order,” patriarchal families, and fundamental- ist Christian values, and attacking the legitimacy of the postwar social welfare state. In contrast to most studies of white nationalism, which focus on its most extreme exponents, this book examines the interplay between the far right and the electoral right. Though white nationalism is nurtured most intensely by a small group of activists and intellectuals, the electoral right throughout the English-speaking world has consistently appealed to racial fears among whites about loss of status. The electoral right receives much of its dynamism from the far right. Yet the existence of such far right groups makes the electoral right more respectable by contrast, able to appeal to white nationalist sentiment while disavowing violent and explicit racism, and thereby enabling it to assemble a broader political coalition. This dialectic of extremism and respectability operates not simply within national boundaries but in a transnational framework. The birth of a nation What distinguishes white nationalists is that they view self-government as a natural and exclusive white right that requires defending. In the post-civil 10  Introduction rights era, there is no better example of this view than the solidarity move- ment that emerged to support the small state of Rhodesia, a movement that also demonstrates the global outlook and transnational connections among white nationalists. On November 11, 1965, Rhodesia announced its Unilateral Declaration of Independence (UDI) from Great Britain in order to preserve minority white rule. With British and American support, the United Nations declared Rhodesia an “illegal racist minority regime” and imposed economic sanctions; no government, not even South Africa, offered Rhodesia diplomatic recognition. Yet white nationalists around the globe mobilized in solidarity with the Rhodesian government, much as leftists had rallied to the republican side in the Spanish Civil War a genera- tion earlier. Rhodesia won the support of a transnational community of embattled whites who saw the regime’s existential struggle against a black liberation movement and a hostile international community as connected to their own local and national battles to maintain white privilege in the face of civil rights gains. They were inspired by Rhodesia’s charismatic leader Ian Smith who forthrightly declared to a popular American maga- zine, “The white man is the master of Rhodesia … [he] has built it and intends to keep it.”27 Rhodesian independence excited disproportionate support among white nationalists throughout the English-speaking world compared to its neighbors, the Portuguese settler colonies of Angola and Mozambique, which fought contemporaneous battles against black liberation move- ments, and even its far more powerful and populous neighbor, South Africa. South Africa’s introduction of apartheid, a system of institution- alized racial segregation, in 1948 showed the persistence of global white supremacy despite post-World War II decolonization and the formal anti-racism of the liberal internationalism associated with the United Nations. Apartheid galvanized anti-racists worldwide. It also inspired white supremacists to hold their ground, even if the anti-British compo- nent of Afrikaner nationalism complicated matters for Anglophone white nationalists. Yet white nationalists claimed Rhodesia as a critical front, or the last line of defense, in an imagined, globalized race war for white self-government. 11 Global white nationalism Preparing the way for Rhodesia’s emergence as the international symbol of embattled whiteness were the 1952 Mau Mau “emergency” and ensuing war in Kenya, which ended with independence from Britain in January 1960, followed by war in the newly independent Republic of the Congo between 1960 and 1965. The violent Mau Mau rebellion was perceived, from white British and American contemporary viewpoints, as targeting whites rather than as in fact an anti-colonial uprising that mainly divided Africans and resembled a civil war.28 Popular representations of Mau Mau portrayed African decolonization as “impulsively savage,” to use the words of a best-selling 1955 American novel about the rebellion, Something of Value. Its author, Robert Ruark, was a North Carolinian associated with the segregationist Citizens’ Councils. Its success high- lights how commonly whites accepted images of Africans as essentially irrational and thus incapable of self-government—in contrast, the rebel- lion inspired African American nationalists and others engaged in the global black freedom struggle.29 The international press similarly presented the Congo crisis in 1960 as a symbol of the seemingly inevitable violence and disorder of black liberation. In the U.S., a sense among White House officials that the Congolese displayed ingratitude toward the leaving Belgians contributed to a decision to oust the democratically elected prime minister Patrice Lumumba. Additionally, the crisis played into American fears of race war, or more precisely a slave uprising, as accounts of Congolese troops raping white nuns captured the attention of the press, the White House, the UN Security Council—and American segregationists.30 “Don’t wait for your daughter to be raped by these Congolese,” proclaimed Leander Perez, a white supremacist leader from Louisiana.31 The arrival of Soviet bloc technicians and matériel in 1960 convinced the Eisenhower adminis- tration that the Congo was a new front in the Cold War. By 1964, when UN peacekeeping forces were preparing to leave the Republic of Congo, Washington and Brussels began to fund white supremacist vigilante mer- cenaries devoted to halting “communism.”32 To white nationalists, the Congo crisis, coming on the heels of Mau Mau, seemed to justify their fears that decolonization would yield social disorder and violently destroy 12  Introduction the white racial right to self-government not only through majority rule but also through communism. These fears bolstered the Rhodesian government’s appeal to white nationalists internationally following UDI, when it fostered support groups abroad to promote its cause, especially in Britain, South Africa, and the U.S.33 In Britain, the Rhodesian issue was a crucial spur to the formation of a right-wing group within the Conservative Party, the Monday Club. The Monday Club became a leading platform not only for supporting white minority rule within (post-)colonial Africa but also for opposing non-white migration to Britain. It regularly trotted out Ian Smith’s wartime service as an RAF pilot to generate support in Britain: Smith and even the UDI represented the best of Britain, its spirit of self- determination and heroism as the underdog proven in World War II. British rightists asserted that Britain had lost its “enterprising” spirit due to the postwar welfare state, yet in Rhodesia a heroic British culture could live on. According to Smith, if Winston Churchill were still alive, he would emigrate to Rhodesia.34 The Rhodesian cause also found significant support among Americans. Marvin Liebman, a conservative activist and paid lobbyist for the Rhodesian government, founded the American Friends of Rhodesian Independence (FORI) in 1966. By the end of the year, it claimed 122 branches and 25,000 members, attracting many who already belonged to right-wing groups such as the Liberty Lobby, the John Birch Society, and the segregationist Citizens’ Council. The group appealed not only to anti- black sentiment but also to anti-communism and hostility to the “world government” of the United Nations that had imposed sanctions against Rhodesia.35 Like other white nationalists during the Cold War, FORI conflated communism, liberal internationalism, and black rule while harkening back to notions of Anglo-Saxon ideals of self-governance. It had significant success in getting the American press to promote views supportive of the Rhodesian regime and in lobbying the U.S. government to scrap sanctions. In 1971, Congress passed the Byrd Amendment that allowed the U.S. to import chrome from Rhodesia in violation of UN sanctions. Though anti-communist rhetoric was crucial to the passage of 13 Global white nationalism the bill, it was hardly an accident that its sponsor was arch-segregationist Senator Harry Byrd of Virginia.36 It is telling that Rhodesian support groups referred to themselves as “friends” of the regime. Rather than invoking universal human rights, they appealed to kinship ties that bound white people together. Such ties of friendship and kinship were not always imagined. They were fostered through emigration to Rhodesia as well as visits to the country sponsored by support groups such as FORI, often with funding from the Rhodesian government.37 The strongest support for the Rhodesian regime came from groups in Britain, South Africa, and the U.S., though the cause resonated elsewhere. The founder of a pro-Rhodesian group in Winnipeg, Canada, cited his eight grandchildren: “They’re the ones I’m fighting for. No one is prejudiced against the black people. But what’s the advantage of destroying white civilization?”38 The right-wing Australian League of Rights took up the “Battle for Rhodesia,” celebrating the for- mation of FORI groups in the U.S.39 Especially after the intensification of armed struggle in 1974, the Rhodesian regime recruited mercenaries from abroad, especially from Australia, Britain, France, New Zealand, and the U.S.40 The Rhodesian regime fell in 1980 when Robert Mugabe, leader of the insurgent national liberation movement, proclaimed the Republic of Zimbabwe. Yet the failure of white minority rule in Rhodesia, followed over a decade later by the end of apartheid in South Africa, hardly dealt an irreversible blow to global white supremacy. White supremacists in the English-speaking world often succeeded in making Zimbabwe, which suffered under the misrule of Mugabe, into a morality tale of black major- ity rule. Shortly after Rhodesia’s fall, The Citizen, the publication of the segregationist Citizens’ Councils of America, printed several articles by Father Arthur Lewis, an English-born, Oxford-educated Anglican mis- sionary who fled Rhodesia. Lewis denounced the purported mistreat- ment of whites by the Zimbabwean government, excoriated international organizations such as the World Council of Churches for their role in the downfall of Rhodesia, and pled for support for white Rhodesian refugees from friends in the U.S., Britain, Canada, and Europe.41 14  Introduction A romantic ideal of Rhodesia as an inspirational “lost cause” continues to seize the imagination of white supremacists. In 2015, Dylann Roof, radical- ized by reading the publications of the Council of Conservative Citizens (the successor to the Citizens’ Council), murdered nine people at a historic black church in Charleston, South Carolina. Roof styled himself “the Last Rhodesian” in his manifesto and attire. Puzzled commentators rushed to understand the meaning these symbols held for him. Rhodesian history and the glorification of white fighters in the 1970s war has grown online since 2015. In 2018, a gun manufacturer in Illinois planned to produce a “Rhodie tribute” automatic rifle. A clothing salespoint located outside Boston marketed a red-and-white patch proclaiming “Make Zimbabwe Rhodesia Again.”42 The memory of Rhodesia—nostalgia not only for a white-ruled state, but also specifically as a site of modern combat for white rule— continues to evoke white nationalism and the need to defend white self- government in transnational terms. And stories of violence against white landowners in southern Africa continue to excite white nationalists globally. For example, in 2018 Fox News pundits amplified conspiracy theories about a planned “white genocide” in southern Africa, leading President Trump to instruct the Secretary of State to investigate the purported “South Africa land and farm seizures and expropriations and the large scale killing of farmers.” Though manifestly false, the familiar story continues to resonate with the crucial fear of white besiegement.43 Border crossings Though the politics of white nationalism has focused on closing national borders (to non-whites), it has been nourished by the border crossings of leading white nationalists. Contrary to popular stereotype, white nation- alists are hardly rubes ignorant of international affairs. Their leaders sought connections with counterparts in other countries, believing that they were involved in a shared struggle. For example, David Duke and Enoch Powell—two of the figures most famous for arguing the necessity of closing borders to keep nations white—crossed physical and intellectual borders to develop and advance their visions. 15 Global white nationalism In March 1978, Duke traveled to England with the goals of increasing his profile, forming connections with like-minded Britons, and urging them to halt non-white migration to their nation lest they suffer the fate of the multiracial U.S. Duke’s visit was widely publicized in the British tabloid press, which could not resist the figure of the youthful, handsome, articulate, and media-savvy Klansman. Eventually deported for inciting racial hatred, Duke managed to escape the authorities for several days, all the while remaining in the public spotlight, leading him to be dubbed the “racist Pimpernel” by British tabloids. The visit helped Duke, at the time relatively unknown outside Louisiana, to become the world-famous figure he is today. Duke asserted that American and British whites shared a “special rela- tionship” of racial affinity and sought to convince his American audience that non-white immigration was a mutual racial concern. Appearing on the BBC, Duke claimed that the U.S. was his “country” but that his “national origin” was British. Duke frequently appeared in front of quintessentially British locations. He posed for photographs wearing a heavily embroi- dered Klan robe—hood pulled back—near Big Ben. Later, wearing a coat and tie, he was photographed before Buckingham Palace, beside Beefeaters at the Tower of London, and (even while evading the authori- ties) outside Scotland Yard. Reflecting on his visit in an editorial for his newsletter, Duke wrote “in just about every western nation the White race is under assault. Our culture, values, heritage, economic well-being, and the very racial existence of our people are threatened by a tidal wave of colored peoples sweeping over our borders through immigration.” To Britons, Duke portrayed himself as “a Paul Revere in reverse, warning the British that their cities will become human sewers like ours if the non-White immigration continues.” He told the Evening News he “came to help stop coloured immigration into this country.” In fact, he proposed that Britons enact a “port watch” modeled on the vigilante patrol Duke ’s Klan had launched on the Mexican border in October 1977, running from Brownsville, Texas, to the Pacific. Duke sought con- nections among far right groups such as the National Front and hoped his visit would spark Klan branches in Britain, proclaiming, “someday 16  Introduction we ’ll have more members in Birmingham, England than Birmingham, Alabama.”44 Duke’s mention of Birmingham, which he visited during his trip, evoked Enoch Powell, the British conservative politician who delivered his infamously racist and highly popular “Rivers of Blood” speech there in 1968, warning against non-white migration into Britain. A decade before Duke, Powell evoked the spectre of American racial chaos coming to the U.K., a vision fed by travels to Detroit the previous year where he toured the scene of one of the most destructive riots of the era. Powell’s speech should be understood not only as a crucial moment in domestic British political history but also in white nationalism internationally. Powell’s image as a man who courageously challenged elite opinion to stand against the “oppression” of white people resulted in multiple speaking tours outside of Britain. In 1973, Powell appeared on Australian television in a debate with Australia’s Minister for Immigration, Albert Grassby. That year, the racially discriminatory aspects of Australia’s 1958 Migration Act were officially overturned. Grassby initiated these reforms and introduced a national “multicultural” policy in Australia. As one observer noted, Powell in the debate made “a case for retaining a society that, in reality, never existed” in Australia; he seemed to “yearn for the mythical Anglo- Saxon England of days gone by.”45 Powell also captured the imagination of American segregationists. In 1971, the Citizens’ Council, the leading organization fighting racial integration in the U.S., invited Powell to speak at its headquarters in Jackson, Mississippi. Powell’s speech, which alleged that “whites are being held back to accommodate the Asiatics and blacks,” met with widespread approval among an audience of Citizens’ Council leaders and a host of local and state politicians.46 By 1978, Powell himself was no longer prominent in British politics. Having left the Conservative Party due to its support for Britain’s entry into the European Economic Community in 1973, Powell turned to defending the cause of Protestants in Northern Ireland by representing the Ulster Unionist Party at Westminster. But Powell’s ideas continued to inform British politics. As Stuart Hall observed in 1979, “Powell lost, but ‘Powellism’ won.”47 Margaret Thatcher, the Conservative Party leader 17 Global white nationalism in opposition at the time of Duke’s visit, had earlier that year voiced her sympathy with white Britons feeling “swamped by people of a different culture.” Her message all but destroyed the National Front in the 1979 general election, as the Conservative Party picked up the anti-immigrant vote in areas where the National Front had been most active.48 Powell himself was perceived as too extreme, the National Front even more so, but their presence allowed Thatcher to gain power as a respectable alternative voicing much the same message that Powell and Duke had: non-white immigration threatened white Britons.49 Though the tabloid press portrayed Duke the Klansman as a bizarre American curiosity, this framing occluded the tabloids’ own key role in fostering the populist anti- immigrant sentiment exploited by Thatcher.50 Toward a global history of white nationalism By tracing a variety of imagined ties like the “friends” of Rhodesia, and real border crossings like those of Duke and Powell, the essays in this volume analyze the entangled histories of white nationalism in the U.S., Britain, and former British settler colonies since the mid-twentieth century. The book is divided into four sections. In the first section, authors discuss how memories and forgettings of the long history of white supremacy enable white nationalism today. Kennetta Hammond Perry demonstrates how the popular memory of slavery in Britain today reproduces white supremacy. Stuart Ward shows how the history of settler colonialism in Australia helps explain the actions of the mass murderer of Muslims in Christchurch. Bill Schwarz demonstrates the profound ways in which British and American politics were shaped in reaction to global demands for black equality. The next three sections offer case studies of how particular instances of transnational exchange shaped the development of white nationalism globally. Clive Webb examines the importance of the U.S. to the development of Enoch Powell’s ideas and the reception they received in the U.S., while Daniel Geary uncovers the importance of transnational networks of racist religious fundamental- ists for Ian Paisley, the Protestant preacher and prominent opponent of 18  Introduction Catholic civil rights in Northern Ireland. Josiah Brownell shows how the Rhodesian government used Powellite imagery of Britain swamped by non-white migration to recruit white immigrants, while Zoe Hyman reveals how both Rhodesia and South Africa provided American segre- gationists with “an alternative future where white supremacy persisted.” Evan Smith examines how different groups in the Australian far right looked to the U.S. and U.K. for inspiration, while Kyle Burke shows how skinhead culture fed into hypermasculine and paramilitary cultures of the far right in the U.K and U.S. Both Smith and Burke make clear that contemporary white nationalism in the Anglosphere continues to draw from a fascist, anti-Semitic tradition. What follows is best understood as a collective and preliminary effort. It is necessarily a collection of essays because it requires the expertise of scholars working on different geographical areas. It is necessarily a provisional effort because of the newness of studies of this kind. As such, our book inevitably has several lacunae. Despite its effort to inter- nationalize our understandings of white nationalism’s history, it remains limited geographically. Though we claim that there is a specific intensity and character of relationships among white nationalists throughout the English-speaking world, any truly global history of white nationalism would obviously have to include continental Europe and other former European settler colonies, not to mention former British settler colonies not treated here such as Canada, Kenya, and New Zealand. This book focuses on the activities of white nationalists themselves, rather than on organized opposition to their activism; the actors in these histories are, therefore, largely male and white. Women played essential roles in the social reproduction of white nationalism, but with some key exceptions they typically worked behind the scenes. Though gender runs throughout the chapters of this book as a category of analysis, an entire volume could be dedicated to the work of gender in the transnational history of white nationalism. It warrants further sustained examination. Though the chapters in this volume focus primarily (though hardly exclusively) on how white nationalists responded to black empowerment, it should be noted that at different times and places white nationalists 19 Global white nationalism have been equally or more concerned with threats posed by Asians, Latin Americans, indigenous peoples, Muslims, Jews, or even southern and eastern Europeans. Tracing the history of white nationalism up to the present would especially require more attention to developments since the 1990s, when Islamophobia has become an increasingly prominent component of white nationalist ideology. It is our hypothesis that recent Islamophobic movements have been grounded in the earlier period of white nationalism. White nationalism, after all, is best understood as a consistent mindset rather than a reaction to particular groups of people. One of the key issues involved in understanding global white national- ism is whether it should be perceived as a marginal political movement or as part of the mainstream of contemporary political culture. We think white nationalism should be understood as both constitutive of our socie- ties and as a specific political movement of the right whose fortunes are now resurgent. Given the deep ways in which notions of “white men’s countries” structured Britain, the U.S., and British settler colonies just a century ago, it is hardly surprising that a foundation of white supremacy remains under the edifice of societies that have formally renounced racism. This is particularly true given the partial defeat of movements for racial equality as reflected in the continuation of vast systemic inequalities and institutional anti-black violence. We invite readers to heed the warning of David Theo Goldberg not to confuse “the end of racism” with “no more than being against race.”51 The persistence of white supremacy in our societies has provided a strong platform on which white nationalists can stand, and it must be dismantled. We also believe that white nationalism needs to be understood as a specific political movement of the right, though one hardly limited to just a handful of extremists. The successes of anti-racist movements in the twentieth century were only partial, but they were enough to spark a pow- erful reaction from those who wished that their nations were still white men’s countries. White nationalists share a sense of dispossession rooted in incomplete changes to the racial order. Yet their feelings of loss, cloaked in the mainstream as calls for a return to national greatness, serve as scant cover for white supremacy. 20  Introduction Combatting contemporary white nationalism requires truly grappling with the long history of white supremacy and white nationalism’s roots in the global history of slavery and settler colonialism. It also requires understanding white nationalism today as a specific historical formation which emerged in reaction to the global black freedom struggle. This is the central project of this book. To many observers, Brexit and Trump made it seem as if an atavistic ideology was suddenly resurrected. This book shows that white national- ism has remained a consistent presence in transnational political culture. While rooted in the older ideal of the “white man’s country” associated with Anglophone settler colonialism, it has adapted to the challenges posed by decolonization, civil rights, and liberal internationalism. Those seeking to explain white nationalism’s renewed political strength in our own time should then ask why it has begun to have greater appeal. To the minority who explicitly identify with white nationalist ideas, their sense of victimization and desire to return to an imagined past era of national glory has everything to do with the decline of white dominance. To many other white people, white nationalists’ rhetoric of betrayal, nostalgia, and denunciation of non-white immigrants and internationalist elites has increased appeal in a period of financial crash, depressed wages, and precarious employment. The lack until recently of a significant left-wing challenge to neoliberalism has moreover made ethnonationalism the main political form in which anti-establishment sentiment can be articulated.52 The adaptations that white nationalists made after 1945 have enabled it to broaden its appeal in our time. White nationalism, the following chapters show, is a worldly ideology. Its future may be uncertain, but its resilience should never again be underestimated. Notes 1 “White House Dismisses Trump Mention in Christchurch Shooter Manifesto,” Guardian, March 17, 2019. 2 We use the term “white nationalism” here instead of related terms such as “white supremacism” and “White Power,” both of which are apt terms for many of the 21 Global white nationalism phenomena we discuss. However, while underlining links with earlier notions of “white men’s countries,” “white nationalism” also suggests a historical specificity in the post-civil rights and post-decolonization era that “white supremacism” lacks. “White nationalism” also captures the essential importance of ethnonationalism to its appeal. In her excellent book Bring the War Home, Kathleen Belew rejects the term “white nationalism” in favor of “White Power.” Her terminology is certainly appropriate for the small number of individuals (10,000–25,000 in her estimation) who actively support violent resistance, many of whom speak of building a new white ethnostate. However, Belew tends to confuse anti-statism with a rejection of nationalism, thereby missing the key populist element of white ethnonationalism that counterposes the white “people” of the nation against the traitorous elites who govern it. Unlike “White Power,” “white nationalism” also captures a broader set of ideas evident in both extremist movements like White Power and in mainstream politics. Though this book treats white nationalism as a historically specific species of eth- nonationalism, we recognize that ethnonationalism need not be expressed in terms of “whiteness,” as evident for example in the contemporary ascendance of Hindu nation- alism in India. See Kathleen Belew, Bring the War Home: The White Power Movement and Paramilitary America (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2018). 3 Paul Kramer, “Empires, Exceptions, and Anglo-Saxons: Race and Rule Between the British and United States Empires, 1880–1910,” Journal of American History 88 (2002): 1315–53. The use of Anglo-Saxon medieval symbols and references in recent white nationalist rallies also reveals the persistence of these ideas. See the contem- porary debates surrounding the field of Anglo-Saxon medieval history: Hannah Natanson, “‘It’s all white people’: Allegations of White Supremacy Are Tearing Apart a Prestigious Medieval Studies Group,” Washington Post, September 19, 2019. 4 Niall Ferguson, Empire: How Britain Made the Modern World (London: Allen Lane, 2003). 5 Duncan Bell and Srdjan Vucetic, “Brexit, CANZUK, and the Legacy of Empire,” The British Journal of Politics and International Relations 21.2 (2019): 367–82. For more on the racial politics of the Anglosphere, see Srdjan Vucetic, “A Racialized Peace? How Britain and the US Made Their Relationship Special,” Foreign Policy Analysis 7.3 (2011): 403–21; Michael Kenny and Nick Pearce, Shadows of Empire: The Anglosphere in British Politics (Cambridge: Polity, 2018). 6 For the significance of racial equality in the human rights revolution, see Steven L. B. Jensen, The Making of International Human Rights: The 1960s, Decolonization, and the Reconstruction of Global Values (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016). 7 While specific expressions of racism and intolerance were increasingly represented as morally reprehensible or as signs of deviant extremism, discrimination against 22  Introduction “outsiders” and racist beliefs remained widespread and accepted in certain political formulations and within particular cultural and economic practices. As we note elsewhere in this introduction and as is discussed throughout this book, we are not arguing that racism itself was defeated by the politics of racial equality, mass migration and decolonization. 8 Marilyn Lake and Henry Reynolds, Drawing the Global Colour Line: White Men’s Countries and the International Challenge of Racial Equality (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 4. 9 Michael Adas, “Contested Hegemony: The Great War and the Afro-Asian Assault on the Civilizing Mission Ideology,” Journal of World History 15.1 (2004): 31–63; Marc Matera, Black London: The Imperial Metropolis and Decolonization in the Twentieth Century (Oakland, CA: University of California Press, 2015); Erez Manela, The Wilsonian Moment: Self-Determination and the International Origins of Anticolonial Nationalism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). 10 See, for instance, Wendy Webster, “The Post-war People’s Empire,” in Englishness and Empire, 1939–1965 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005); Christopher Hilliard, “Words that Disturb the State: Hate Speech and the Lessons of Fascism in Britain, 1930s–1960s,” Journal of Modern History 88 (2016): 764–96; Frederick Cooper, “Afterword: Social Rights and Human Rights in the Time of Decolonization,” Humanity: An International Journal of Human Rights, Humanitarianism, and Development 3 (2012): 473–92. 11 Harold Macmillan, “The Commonwealth: Reflections on Commonwealth and other changes in the post-war world,” personal telegram (reply), Mr. Macmillan to Mr. Menzies, February 8, 1962, PREM 11/3644, T51/62. 12 For an excellent discussion of this strategic embrace of decolonization, see Todd Shepard, “Introduction,” in The Invention of Decolonization: The Algerian War and the Remaking of France (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2006), 1–16. See also Camilla Schofield, Enoch Powell and the Making of Postcolonial Britain (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 76–139. 13 See Wm. Roger Louis and Ronald Robinson, “The Imperialism of Decolonization,” The Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History 22.3 (2008): 462–511. 14 As quoted in Harold Isaacs, The New World of Negro Americans (New York: John Day, 1963), 332. 15 There is a rich literature on black internationalism in the Cold War era. See, for instance, Rob Waters, Thinking Black, Britain 1964–1985 (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2018); Nicholas Grant, Winning Our Freedoms Together: African Americans and Apartheid, 1945–1960 (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2017); Robin D. G. Kelley and Stephen Tuck 23 Global white nationalism (eds.), The Other Special Relationship: Race, Rights, and Riots in Britain and the United States (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015); Matera, Black London; Kennetta Hammond Perry, London is the Place for Me: Black Britons, Citizenship and the Politics of Race (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015); Nico Slate (ed.), Black Power Beyond Borders: The Global Dimensions of the Black Power Movement (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012); Penny von Eschen, Race Against Empire: Black Americans and Anticolonialism, 1937–1957 (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1997). 16 David Keane and Annapurna Waughray, Fifty Years of the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination: A Living Instrument (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2017). For the importance of leadership from the Global South in the human rights revolution, see Jensen, The Making of International Human Rights. 17 Karl Ittmann, A Problem of Great Importance: Population, Race, and Power in the British Empire, 1918–1973 (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2013). On “race suicide” in the early twentieth century, see Gail Bederman, Manliness and Civilization: A Cultural History of Gender and Race in the United States, 1880–1917 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995). The racist nature of discourse about world population was not always hidden during the later twentieth century. For instance, in the 1960s, American, British, and South African eugenicists launched the pseudo-academic journal Mankind Quarterly in a “shared campaign to defend white supremacy against liberal egalitarianism.” The journal was rejected by the vast majority of academic institutions and by the “liberal elite” it pitted itself against. Saul Dubow, “Rhodes Must Fall: Brexit and Circuits of Knowledge and Influence,” in Stuart Ward and Astrid Rasch (eds.), Embers of Empire in Brexit Britain (London: Bloomsbury, 2019), 111–20 (115). 18 Wendy Webster, “‘There’ll Always Be England’: Representations of Colonial Wars and Immigration, 1948–1968,” Journal of British Studies 40.4 (2001): 557–84; Frederick Cooper, “Mau Mau and the Discourses of Decolonization,” Journal of African History 29.2 (1988): 313–20. On the racialization of “modernity,” see also Luis White, “The Utopia of Working Phones: Rhodesian Independence and the Place of Race in Decolonization,” in Michael D. Gordin, Helen Tilley and Gyan Prakash (eds.), Utopia/Dystopia: Conditions of Historical Possibility (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2010), 94–116. 19 Joseph Hodge, The Triumph of the Expert: Agrarian Doctrines of Development and the Legacies of British Colonialism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). 20 Haynes, “The Whiteness of Civilization,” 325. Recent critical analyses of whiteness and its international dimensions include Gurminder Bhambra, “Trump, Brexit and 24  Introduction ‘methodological whiteness,’” British Journal of Sociology 68.1 (2017): S214–S232; Moonie-Kie Jung, João H. Costa Vargas, and Eduardo Bonilla-Silva (eds.), State of White Supremacy: Racism, Governance, and the United States (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2011). 21 See Perry, London is the Place for Me. An extensive literature challenges the notion that black Britons “arrived” with the Empire Windrush; see, for instance, the canonical text: Peter Fryer, Staying Power: The History of Black People in Britain (Edmonton: University of Alberta Press, 1984). Yet there is little doubt that the 1948 arrival of the Empire Windrush has taken on mythic proportions in British cultural memory as the origin story of multiethnic Britain, especially after the mistreatment of black British migrants in the recent “Windrush Scandal.” 22 While the 1948 British Nationality Act enshrined into law the right of migrants from the British Empire and the independent states of the Commonwealth to live and work in Britain, it is important to note that restrictions in the 1960s against these migrants were preceded by earlier migration restrictions against British subjects that reveal the long history of racialized logics of Britain as a white nation. See, for instance, the discussion of the Coloured Alien Seamen’s Order of 1925 in Laura Tabili, “The Construction of Racial Difference in Twentieth Century Britain: The Special Restriction (Coloured Alien Seaman) Order, 1925,” Journal of British Studies 33.1 (1994): 54–98. 23 Bill Schwarz, The White Man’s World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 12. 24 Fintan O’Toole, Heroic Failure: Brexit and the Politics of Pain (London: Apollo, 2018). 25 Paul Gilroy, Postcolonial Melancholia (New York: Columbia University Press, 2004). 26 Wendy Webster, Englishness and Empire 1939–1965 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). 27 “Rhodesia: Christmas Postponed,” Time, November 6, 1964. 28 David M. Anderson, Histories of the Hanged: Britain’s Dirty War in Kenya and the End of the Empire (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 2005), 3–4. In fact, only 32 civilian deaths were European, compared to 1,800 Africans murdered. 29 Ibid., 1. The novel led to a 1957 film starring Rock Hudson and Sidney Poitier. See David M. Anderson, “Mau Mau at the Movies: Contemporary Representations of a Colonial War,” South African Historical Journal, May 2003, 71–89; Gerald Horne, Mau Mau in Harlem? The U.S. and the Liberation of Kenya (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009). 30 Thomas Borstelmann, The Cold War and the Color Line: American Race Relations in the Global Arena (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001), 128–32. 25 Global white nationalism 31 As quoted in ibid., 130. 32 Piero Gleijesis, “‘Flee! The White Giants Are Coming!’: The United States, the Mercenaries and the Congo 1964–1965,” in Tom Young (ed.), Readings in the International Relations of Africa (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2016), 153–64. 33 Enocent Msindo, “‘Winning Hearts and Minds:’ Crisis and Propaganda in Colonial Zimbabwe,” Journal of Southern African Studies 35 (2009): 663–81. 34 Schwarz, White Man’s World, 394–438. 35 Vernon McKay, “The Domino Theory of the Rhodesia Lobby,” Africa Report (June 1967), 55–8. 36 Gerald Horne, From the Barrel of a Gun: The United States and the War against Zimbabwe (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2001). 37 Ibid., 69. 38 “Unfriendly Friends of Rhodesia,” Macleans, September 3, 1966, 4. 39 On Target, June 9, 1967, https://alor.org/Volume3/Vol3No21.htm (accessed June 11, 2019). 40 Kyle Burke, Revolutionaries for the Right: Anticommunist Internationalism and Paramilitary Warfare in the Cold War (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2018), 108–12. 41 For example, see Arthur Lewis, “The Zimbabwe Nightmare,” The Citizen, November 1982, 16–22. 42 John Ismay, “Rhodesia’s Dead—But White Supremacists Have Given It New Life Online,” New York Times Magazine, August 17, 2019, www.nytimes.com/2018/ 04/10/magazine/rhodesia-zimbabwe-white-supremacists.html (accessed April 15, 2020). 43 “Trump tweets the word ‘Africa’ for the First Time as President—In Defense of Whites in South Africa,” Washington Post, August 23, 2018. 44 Tyler Bridges, The Rise of David Duke (Jackson, MS: University of Mississippi Press, 1994), 68–71. Quotes from clippings included in The Crusader, March 1978. Duke ’s 1978 visit did not lead to any lasting organizational connections but paved the way for his later alliance with Nick Griffin, who in 1999 became leader of the British National Party. Duke impressed on Griffin the need to appear more moder- ate and respectable to win electoral success; in 2009, the BBC exposed the two of them at a joint conference advocating ethnic cleansing but stressing the need for white nationalists to use more palatable language. 45 Graham Coddington, “Getting to Know Mr. Right,” The Australian, February 25, 1998. 26  Introduction 46 Daniel Geary and Jennifer Sutton, “Resisting the ‘Wind of Change’: The White Citizens’ Councils and European Decolonization,” in Manfred Berg and Cornelius Van Minnen (eds.), The U.S South and Europe (Lexington, KY: University of Kentucky Press, 2013), 265–83. 47 Stuart Hall, “The Great Moving Right Show,” Marxism Today (January 1979): 14–20 (19). 48 Camilla Schofield, ‘“A Nation or No Nation?’: Enoch Powell and Thatcherism,” in Ben Jackson and Robert Saunders (eds.), The Making of Thatcher’s Britain (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 95–110. 49 For an early discussion of how Powell unleashed a new populist politics that would transform British conservativism, see Andrew Gamble, The Conservative Nation (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1974). 50 James West, “Hunt the Wizard,” Journal of British Studies, forthcoming. 51 Due to this confusion, or this assumption that “racial refusal” is synonymous with the end of racism, Goldberg asks, “What residues of racist arrangement and subordination—social, economic, cultural, psychological, legal, and political— linger unaddressed and repressed in singularly stressing racial demise? What doors are thus closed to coming to terms with historical horrors racially inscribed, and what attendant expressions of racial grief and group melancholia, one the one side, and racial self-assertion and triumphalism, on the other, are left unrecognized?” David Theo Goldberg, The Threat of Race: Reflections on Racial Neoliberalism (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2009), 1. 52 Bart Bonikowski, “Ethno-nationalist Populism and the Mobilization of Collective Resentment,” British Journal of Sociology 68 (2017): S181–S213; Magne Flemmen and Mike Savage, “The Politics of Nationalism and White Racism in the UK,” British Journal of Sociology 68 (2017): S233–S264. 27