In the wake of Donald Trump’s return to the White House in 2025, the landscape of political extremism in the United States has shifted in ways that few could have predicted. The resurgence of the neo-Nazi Aryan Freedom Network (AFN), led by Texas couple Dalton Henry Stout and Daisy Barr, is just one striking example of how far-right groups have found new momentum. According to a recent Reuters investigation, AFN’s leaders openly credit Trump’s rhetoric—his hardline immigration stance, attacks on diversity initiatives, and invocations of "Western values"—for fueling a surge in their recruitment and visibility.
Stout, in his first interview with any news organization, told Reuters, “Trump awakened a lot of people to the issues we’ve been raising for years. He’s the best thing that’s happened to us.” It's a chilling admission, underscoring the complex interplay between mainstream politics and extremist movements in today’s America. While the Aryan Freedom Network and similar groups remain on the political fringes, they are increasingly at the center of far-right demonstrations and acts of violence, as evidenced by data from the Armed Conflict Location & Event Data project (ACLED). In 2020, white extremist groups were linked to 13% of extremist-related demonstrations and political violence in the U.S.; by 2024, that figure had soared to nearly 80%.
This rise coincides with a number of policy shifts and high-profile decisions by President Trump. On his inauguration day, January 20, 2025, Trump granted full pardons to nearly 1,500 individuals charged with crimes related to the January 6, 2021 Capitol riot, including the Proud Boys leader (sentenced to 22 years) and the Oath Keepers founder (sentenced to 18 years). Trump described the move as “an effort to end a grave national injustice and promote national reconciliation.” The president has also pardoned figures such as Ross Ulbricht, who was serving a life sentence for conspiracy to distribute narcotics and money laundering, and the two owners of American Therapeutic Corporation, convicted of defrauding Medicare of $205 million. Trump’s use of the pardon power has extended to numerous allies and mega-contributors, convicted of crimes ranging from fraud to bribery, effectively rescinding hundreds of years of sentences over his last two terms.
When asked about the possibility of pardoning convicted sex offender and child sex trafficker Ghislaine Maxwell, Trump responded bluntly, “I’m allowed to do it.” Notably, Trump’s former lawyer and current Deputy Attorney General, Todd Blanche, recently interviewed Maxwell for two days, though no specifics have been made public. The prospect of a pardon for Maxwell has reignited scrutiny of the Epstein-Trump connection and prompted criticism from both political opponents and some within his own party.
These sweeping pardons and the administration’s shifting law enforcement priorities have had ripple effects. Far-right groups now believe that federal investigations into white nationalists are no longer a priority. The Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) has reduced staffing in its Domestic Terrorism Operations Section, and the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) has cut personnel in its violence prevention office. Both agencies maintain that they remain committed to fighting domestic terrorism, but specialists in the field warn that these moves could embolden extremists by weakening the government’s ability to detect and disrupt threats.
The Aryan Freedom Network, meanwhile, has become a focal point for this new wave of extremism. From a modest ranch house in Texas, Stout and Barr oversee a network that, by their own account, has nearly doubled its number of chapters since early 2023. The Terrorism Research and Analysis Consortium estimates AFN’s membership at between 1,000 and 1,500, though independent verification remains elusive. AFN’s events—such as “White Unity” conferences and annual “Aryan Fests”—serve as networking hubs for the far right, attracting attendees from groups like the Ku Klux Klan and other white nationalist organizations.
AFN’s ideology is rooted in the Christian Identity movement, which asserts that white Europeans, not Jews, are the true Israelites of biblical scripture. Stout and Barr, both born into white supremacist families with deep Klan ties, have woven together elements of KKK tradition with Nazi iconography and conspiracy theories. At AFN gatherings, swastikas are set ablaze and chants of “white power” echo through the woods. Flyers distributed by the group, often under cover of night, target immigrants and Black Americans with racist caricatures and incendiary slogans. Police in West Bend, Wisconsin, reported hundreds of AFN flyers distributed in May, one reading, “Tired of being discriminated against because you’re white? Join.”
Despite their claims to oppose violence, AFN openly advocates preparing for a “Racial Holy War.” Stout told Reuters, “We got to watch our Ps and Qs. And when the day comes, that will be the day – that’s when violence will solve everything.” Researchers say this reflects a broader strategy among some far-right groups: operate within the law while predicting and preparing for a moment of upheaval. Firearms and tactical training are central to AFN’s identity, as confirmed by federal court records and an FBI affidavit detailing the activities of former member Andrew Munsinger, who was arrested for illegally possessing firearms and constructing explosive devices.
AFN’s ties to the Ku Klux Klan are deep and ongoing. The group has adopted Klan tactics, such as widespread flyer distribution and cross burnings. In May, Reuters attended a modern-day Klan ceremony in Kentucky, where leaders spoke openly about Trump’s energizing effect on the white nationalist movement. William Bader, leader of the Trinity Knights Klan faction, asserted, “White people are finally seeing something going their way for once.” Another Klan official, Steve Bowers, noted that while he isn’t a fan of Trump’s ties to Israel, “People think he’s going to save the white race in America.”
At the same time, the boundaries between extremist groups and mainstream conservative politics have blurred. Ideas once confined to the fringes—such as those espoused by the Proud Boys—are now more visible in Republican politics, from election denialism to rhetoric casting immigrants as “invaders.” Heidi Beirich of the Global Project Against Hate and Extremism observed, “A Proud Boy doesn’t even seem that scary anymore because of the normalization process.”
Trump and his administration have repeatedly denied supporting white extremism. White House spokesperson Harrison Fields insisted, “President Trump is a president for all Americans and hate has no place in our country. President Trump is focused on uniting our country, improving our economy, securing our borders, and establishing peace across the globe.” Fields also noted a significant rise in Trump’s support among Black voters, with his share nearly doubling to 15% in the last election.
Nevertheless, the rise of groups like the Aryan Freedom Network and the normalization of far-right rhetoric raise urgent questions about the future of American democracy and the resilience of its institutions. As extremist groups grow bolder and the lines between fringe and mainstream continue to blur, the challenge for the nation is clear: how to confront the forces of hate without sacrificing the principles of law and justice that have long defined the American experiment.
