How online extremism is breeding hate in rural Fermanagh

Exclusive data obtained by The Impartial Reporter reveals an alarming increase in hate crime, particularly race-related offences, over the last few years. Between 2021 and 2023, 40 race-related incidents were recorded, ranging from violent assaults to theft and criminal damage.

But behind these statistics lies an even more disturbing trend: the growing radicalisation of young men, driven by extremist content online.

The Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI) reports that violent offences peaked in 2022, with 17 incidents, compared to eight in 2021 and ten in 2023. Thefts and burglaries, while fewer in number, are increasing, with three racially motivated burglaries recorded in 2023. These are not just numbers — they represent a pattern of escalating violence targeting vulnerable groups in the community.

The PSNI’s report also notes that only five of the 40 cases have led to charges or summons, while six remain unresolved. Victims of these crimes span various ethnic backgrounds in Fermanagh, including six Asian victims, eight of mixed ethnicity, and 25 white individuals. A significant portion of the victims were UK and Irish nationals, while 16 were foreign nationals. Women made up ten of the victims, while men accounted for 29.

What’s more troubling is that many of these incidents remain unresolved. The lack of resolution for six cases with no assigned outcomes raises concerns over the effectiveness of local law enforcement in addressing hate crimes. This issue is particularly important as hate crimes are notorious for creating a climate of fear and alienation among targeted communities. There are concerns that the inability to prosecute perpetrators exacerbates this fear, making communities feel isolated and unprotected.

While statistics offer a stark illustration of the problem, they do not fully capture the personal stories of those affected. Take Zara, a 23-year-old of Asian descent, who describes her experience of being verbally assaulted in a public place. "It wasn’t just the words," she says, "it was the look in their eyes. Like I didn’t belong here. That look still haunts me." Zara’s case is just one of many where the fear extends far beyond the initial incident, lingering in the daily lives of victims.

As these numbers paint a grim picture, the digital spaces doo too after becoming breeding grounds for far-right ideologies, especially among young men.

The unchecked rise of social media as a platform for far-right ideologies is perhaps the most concerning aspect of this growing crisis. For many young men, the gateway into extremism starts with innocuous content. Matthew, 18, recalls how he first encountered right-wing content online while looking for gaming videos. “It started off slowly — just a few clips making fun of women, which I didn’t think much of at the time. But then more extreme content started popping up. Before I knew it, I was deep into videos about why feminism is destroying society and how transgender people are mentally ill.”

Matthew’s experience is far from unique. Noah, also 18, describes a similar journey. “I didn’t actively seek out this kind of content. It was just there. One minute, I was watching a video about gaming strategies, and the next, I was being recommended videos by guys like Ben Shapiro and Steven Crowder. They make it sound logical at first, but soon you realise it’s a constant stream of hate against women, immigrants, and anyone who doesn’t fit their narrow view of the world.”

Noah recalls how he first became drawn to this type of content as he spent more time indoors during the Covid-19 lockdown. “I started watching gaming videos for hours because there was nothing else to do. Slowly, those videos became more political, and the next thing I knew, I was watching these guys talk about how masculinity is under attack and how feminism was the real enemy.”

Matthew’s experience echoes this sentiment, but he adds another dimension to the problem: peer pressure. “It wasn’t just what I was seeing online. My friends were also watching the same stuff and sharing it. It became this echo chamber where we all agreed with each other because we were being fed the same ideas.”

The algorithm-driven nature of social media is a powerful tool in radicalising young men. Once they start consuming this content, they are fed increasingly extreme material. Charles, 18, explains the impact this has had on his social circles. “You start noticing the same thing happening to your mates. They’re all watching the same stuff, talking about how women are the problem, how immigrants are taking over. It becomes normal. And it’s hard to get out of once you’re in it.”

This issue is not confined to Fermanagh. Across the UK and Ireland, young men like Matthew and Noah are falling into the trap of far-right propaganda through digital platforms. According to a report from the Institute for Strategic Dialogue (ISD), far-right content creators, particularly on YouTube and TikTok, have perfected their approach to engaging with impressionable youths. By packaging extremist views in humorous or entertainment-oriented formats, they are able to lure young viewers into consuming more radical content without them realising the transformation happening within themselves.

Social media algorithms — designed to keep users engaged by feeding them content aligned with their interests — play a critical role in amplifying extremist views. "It starts off with something mild, like a joke, but then the algorithm starts pushing more and more extreme views," explains a researcher from ISD. The shift is often subtle at first, but before long, many young men find themselves immersed in a dangerous online ecosystem.

Charles and Noah both highlighted how the isolation of living in a rural area like Fermanagh amplifies the problem. With fewer social activities and limited access to public transport, many young men turn to the internet to fill the void. “There’s nothing to do around here unless you’re into sports,” says Noah. “So we end up online for hours. And that’s where it all starts.”

This situation is worsened by the social and geographical isolation that comes with rural living. In Fermanagh, public transport is unreliable, and opportunities for extracurricular activities beyond sport are scarce. Young people who don’t engage in sports or physical activities often spend their free time online, where the availability of extremist content is unchecked. This, in turn, creates a perfect environment for far-right ideologies to thrive.

The availability of internet access across rural areas has dramatically changed the landscape of how radicalisation occurs. Unlike in the past, where one had to physically meet with like-minded extremists, now a few clicks can open up a world of conspiracy theories and hatred. What makes this even more alarming is the subtlety with which radicalisation takes place — it can happen through memes, viral videos, or in chat rooms that seem harmless on the surface but are designed to gradually indoctrinate viewers.

Far-right extremism preys on insecurity, particularly in young men who feel uncertain about their place in society. “It’s all about feeling like you don’t measure up,” says Charles. “You see these videos talking about ‘alpha males’ and ‘sigma males,’ and it makes you question yourself. Am I good enough? Am I strong enough? And when you feel like you’re not, it’s easy to get sucked into their worldview.”

The concept of masculinity has been weaponised by far-right content creators, often using archetypes like the “alpha male” to convince young men that their worth is tied to dominance and success over others. This ideology often ties into toxic masculinity and hyper-competition, further alienating young men who already feel inadequate.

Joshua, 18, admits that he and his friends often make offensive jokes without considering the impact. “We say the N-word quite a bit, but we don’t mean anything by it. It’s just part of the jokes we make.” But the normalisation of such language only deepens the divide between these young men and the marginalised groups they are targeting.

Joshua describes how he and his friends often used racist and sexist language without understanding the weight of their words. “We thought it was just jokes, but it wasn’t until I started thinking about it more that I realised we were doing damage. We were making it okay for others to think those things too.”

Amanda, a young woman who has spent time in male-dominated friend groups, describes the pervasive misogyny she experienced. “It was constant,” she says. “There were jokes made about women, about people of colour, and if I ever called them out on it, they’d make me feel like I couldn’t take a joke. It desensitised me to the point where I didn’t even realise how harmful it all was.”

Amanda’s experience underscores the insidious nature of this culture. The young men involved often don’t see their words or actions as malicious, but the harm they cause is very real. “They didn’t grow up around many people of colour, so they don’t understand the weight of their words,” Amanda adds. “But that doesn’t make it any less harmful.”

The issue of normalising harmful language and behaviour speaks to a larger problem—young men are not being taught the impact of their actions. Without education or guidance, they continue to perpetuate harmful ideologies under the guise of humour or camaraderie. This is not just about isolated incidents of offensive language, but about a culture that fosters and normalises hate speech, making it easier for far-right ideologies to gain traction.

In one instance, James, a 19-year-old university student, spoke about his own transformation. "At first, I thought it was all just funny, edgy jokes. But when you hear them all the time, they stop feeling like jokes, and you start believing it." For James, his shift toward radical views came when his friends began attending "meetups" organised by like-minded individuals. What started as a few jokes turned into real-world actions—like attending protests organised by far-right groups.

The rise of far-right extremism in Northern Ireland is not happening in a vacuum. Dr. Ulrike Vieten, an Associate Professor of Sociology at Queen’s University Belfast, has been studying the far-right for years and says that what’s happening in Fermanagh is part of a broader European trend. “The far-right has been on the rise for a decade now, but many people didn’t take it seriously,” she explains. “Now, we’re seeing the consequences of that complacency. Far-right populism is no longer something we can ignore. It’s becoming deeply entrenched in our societies.”

Dr. Vieten points to economic hardship as one of the key factors driving young men towards extremism. “There’s a rise in poverty, a lack of job opportunities, and a sense of hopelessness. Far-right groups are very good at exploiting that. They present easy scapegoats — immigrants, minorities, women — and channel young men’s anger and frustration towards those groups.”

The economic climate in Fermanagh mirrors much of the wider UK, where opportunities for young people are shrinking, and job prospects remain bleak. This, combined with rural isolation, leaves young men vulnerable to extremist ideologies that promise them a sense of purpose and power. Dr. Vieten highlights how this economic instability has led to the rise of far-right movements across Europe, pointing to similar trends in Germany, France, and the Netherlands.

The unchecked spread of far-right content on social media is another major concern. “Social media is not regulated in the way it needs to be,” Dr. Vieten says. “These platforms are global, so national governments struggle to impose regulations on them. That’s a huge problem because it allows hate speech and extremist content to spread without any real oversight.”

Dr. Vieten warns that the current lack of regulation on digital platforms could allow far-right ideologies to gain an even stronger foothold in society. “We need to think about how we regulate the internet on a global scale. Right now, these platforms are operating without any real checks and balances, and that’s dangerous.”

Across the Border in the Republic of Ireland, far-right groups are gaining ground, and alliances are forming between these groups and loyalist factions in Northern Ireland.

Ballyshannon-born Aoife Gallagher, a Senior Analyst at the Institute for Strategic Dialogue (ISD), has been tracking the rise of far-right movements in Ireland for nearly a decade.

“One of the key drivers of far-right extremism is misinformation and disinformation,” she explains. “Far-right groups are often the ones spreading falsehoods about asylum seekers, the LGBTQ+ community, and climate change. They tap into people’s fears and prejudices to further their own agendas.”

Ms Gallagher’s research has uncovered troubling links between far-right groups in Ireland and loyalist factions in Northern Ireland. “There’s no doubt that these groups are working together,” she says. “They’re united by their hatred of immigrants and their desire to maintain what they see as racial purity. We’ve seen groups from Dublin travelling to Belfast to march alongside loyalists at racist and sectarian rallies.”

This cross-Border collaboration is a relatively new phenomenon but one that has the potential to escalate rapidly. Ms Gallagher warns that if left unchecked, the far-right could gain a foothold in both the Republic and Northern Ireland, leading to further polarisation and violence.

She highlights the growing number of far-right influencers who operate across Borders, spreading disinformation that capitalises on fears about immigration, public safety, and the economy. “These influencers are highly effective at building fear-based narratives that pit one community against another,” she says. “They make use of local issues, like housing shortages or healthcare cuts, to direct anger towards minority groups.”

This tactic of exploiting legitimate grievances to promote hate has proven effective. According to Ms Gallagher, far-right groups have been able to recruit young people by convincing them that their struggles are caused by immigrants or other marginalised communities, rather than systemic issues in government policy. “They shift the blame onto the most vulnerable,” she says. “It’s a common tactic, but one that’s incredibly dangerous because it creates a climate of fear and resentment.”

She also pointed out that extremist narratives online frequently converge with nationalist ideals. "It's not just about race," she says, "but about preserving a certain 'cultural identity' which these groups claim is being erased by immigrants, asylum seekers, or even progressive social policies."

At the heart of far-right recruitment efforts is a crisis of masculinity. The far right promises young men a return to traditional gender roles — men as breadwinners and women as homemakers. This message appeals to young men who feel alienated by a society that no longer rewards them simply for being male. “The far-right is extremely anti-feminist,” says Ms Gallagher. “They promote a return to a time when men were in control, and women knew their place. For young men who feel left behind by social progress, this message can be very appealing.”

This rhetoric is particularly appealing to young men who feel that their role in society is being threatened by modern gender politics. The far-right movement’s push to restore traditional masculinity offers these men a sense of stability and a clear definition of what it means to be a “real man.” Unfortunately, this also comes with a dangerous dose of misogyny and a rejection of gender equality.

The young men interviewed for this article consistently expressed negative views about women and feminists. Many of them admitted to having few, if any, female friends and expressed frustration with what they saw as a “cultural shift” that has left them feeling alienated. “It’s not that I hate women,” says Noah. “But I don’t understand them. It feels like everything we do now is wrong. If you’re too nice, you’re weak. If you’re too tough, you’re toxic. There’s no winning.”

This confusion about masculinity, compounded by the narratives pushed by far-right influencers, creates a breeding ground for extremist views. The far-right capitalises on young men’s insecurities by offering them an easy answer: that women and feminists are the problem. This reductionist view ignores the complexities of modern gender dynamics but offers young men a convenient scapegoat for their feelings of inadequacy.

Those interviewed believe that far-right extremism in Northern Ireland is a symptom of deeper societal failures. Economic hardship, rural isolation, and the unchecked spread of toxic online content are all contributing to the radicalisation of young men. Without addressing these root causes, the region risks further hate-fuelled violence and deepening social fractures.

Experts agree that intervention is urgently needed. Education, community-building, and stronger regulation of digital platforms are essential to prevent the far-right from gaining a stronger foothold. “The consequences of inaction are severe,” warns Dr. Vieten. “If we don’t act now, far-right ideologies will become even more entrenched in our societies, and the violence we’re seeing will only get worse.”

In Fermanagh, the call for action grows louder. Young men are being left behind, and in their isolation, they are being drawn into a dangerous world of extremism.

The question is, will society act in time to save them from the far-right?