7

DIGITALLY MEDIATED SPILLOVER AS A

CATALYST OF RADICALIZATION
How Digital Hate Movements Shape Conservative
Youth Activism

Adam Burston

Between 2017 and 2023, American universities reported more than 1,000
incidents of white supremacist recruitment materials on college campuses
(ADL, 2019, 2023), thousands of hate crimes (Bauman, 2018), and myriad
instances of right-wing extremist mobilization (Iannelli, 2018; Quintana,
2018; SPLC, 2018). While the perpetrators behind extremist recruitment and
hate crimes are rarely identified, right-wing extremist mobilization has been
linked to rogue chapters of conservative youth organizations. These rogue
chapters have espoused such extreme ideology that they were de-chartered by
their parent organization and denounced by the Republican Party (Alonso,
2022; ND GOP, 2022; Polletta, 2019). Campus-based extremism carried out
by conservative youth organizations is alarming because these organizations
function as a bellwether of the Republican Party. Participation often leads
to a political career (Binder & Kidder, 2022). James O’Ryan Allsup (SPLC,
2022a), Kyle Bristol (SPLC, 2022b), and Crystal Clanton (Raymond, 2022)
are examples of extremists who used participation in a conservative stu-
dent organization to attain positions of power within the Republican Party.
Extremism on college campuses represents a social problem and a potential
national security threat. Yet, it is understudied.
This chapter provides an explanation for campus-based radicalization. It
emerged from a four-year, multisite ethnography of College Conservatives
for Freedom and Liberty, a national conservative youth organization with
chapters in major universities across the United States. At each of the field
sites, I witnessed a phenomenon I call digitally mediated spillover. Digitally
mediated spillover occurs when activists who participated in a digital social
movement enter a new movement, bringing their ideology and culture, tacti-
cal repertoires, and social networks.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003472148-7
This chapter has been made available under a CC-BY-NC-ND 4.0 license.
 Digitally Mediated Spillover as a Catalyst of Radicalization 145

Digitally mediated spillover began when right-wing extremists who had

formerly participated in digital movements during high school began their
university career and joined moderate conservative youth groups. In the
chapters where moderates remained a majority and retained leadership posi-
tions, digitally mediated spillover was highly disruptive but did not result
in radicalization. However, at one of the field sites, right-wing extremists
obtained leadership positions and radicalized a sufficient number of moder-
ate activists to become the majority. There were three phases of digitally
mediated spillover that ultimately yielded extremism. First, extremists altered
the collective identity at W-CCFL by exposing their peers to extremist cyber-
culture. Second, extremists rendered their peers ideologically extreme and
transformed the Group Chat into a “radical milieu,” a social network in
which sympathetic members of the public offer moral support to extremists.
Third, W-CCFL activists became tactically extreme, and this led to organiza-
tional implosion.

Defining Key Terms

It is important to define key constructs for interdisciplinary audiences.
Extremism and radicalization are terms that are highly contested across the
social sciences (McCauley & Moskalenko, 2017). Ideological extremism
entails sympathizing with and advocating for ideologies and practices that
disturb a target (e.g., targeted online harassment, sharing racist conspiracy
theories online), whereas behavioral extremism describes a willingness to
organize or enact physical violence against perceived enemies or innocent
civilians (e.g., hate crime, terrorism). Common elements of ideological and
behavioral extremism include a shared disdain for democracy, pluralistic
society, and the rule of law (Lowe, 2017). Thus, for the purposes of this
chapter, I define radicalization as the process in which a moderate social
movement becomes ideologically or behaviorally extreme.
A social movement is a social network that enacts “collective efforts, of
some duration and organization, using noninstitutionalized methods to bring
about social change” (Flacks, 2005, p. 5). Historically, successful social
movements have been dense, relatively closed social networks with strong ties
among members and organizations at their center (e.g., community centers,
nonprofit organizations). However, social media platforms have given rise to
“connective action” or social movements comprising loosely connected social
networks with weak ties among members (Kasimov, 2023). Social move-
ments based on connective action are less effective at coordinating offline
protests and lobbying for policy reform, but more effective at disseminating
movement ideology to the public (Malthaner & Waldmann, 2014).
Social movement spillover is a phenomenon in which the “the ideas, tac-
tics, style, participants, and organizations of one social movement spill over
146 Adam Burston

its boundaries to effect other social movements” (Meyer & Whittier, 1994,
p. 277). Originally, spillover was formulated to describe Second Wave Femi-
nists joining and altering the trajectory of the Nuclear Freeze Movement in
the 1980s. Feminists left an indelible mark on that movement by infusing
anti-nuclear ideology with feminist logics, teaching feminist protest tactics
to Nuclear Freeze activists, and providing personnel and organizations to the
fledgling movement.
My designation “digitally mediated” refers to social processes that are
altered by digital cultures. Digitally mediated social processes occur when
ideologies, social norms, and behaviors that originated in a particular online
context shape social processes in a new online or offline context. Digitally
mediated social processes are often but not always transacted through
computer-mediated communication. Examples of digitally mediated social
processes range from participation in Internet raids in which members of
one digital community infiltrate another as a prank or cyber-attack, offline
conventions in which fans of a web-based comic series meet to discuss their
shared passion, to QAnon protests in which offline mobilization is governed
by a community of web-based conspiracy theorists. This chapter examines
digitally mediated spillover to explain the social processes through which
extremist social movements transmit the culture of cyberhate into new online
and offline spaces. Put differently, digitally mediated spillover illustrates that
the social processes of online hate are transmissible.

Pathways to Radicalization
In response to the recent wave of right-wing extremism, a body of interdis-
ciplinary scholarship has emerged to explain the influence of social media
technologies in radicalization. This research mostly addresses the influence of
“echo chambers,” or ideologically homogenous social networks online, and
filter bubbles in which algorithms assign certain users ideologically homog-
enous and polarizing content (for review, see Zhuravskaya et al., 2020).
Despite the strengths of this research, its approach to online radicalization is
too narrowly focused on the “how,” not the “why,” of radicalization. Socio-
logical insights about the macrostructural trends and interactional dynamics
that produce the radicalization prove useful.
Right-wing extremist social movements emerge in response to macrostruc-
tural threats that undermine their political, cultural, and economic power
(for review, see Simi et al., 2024). In response to these threats, right-wing
extremist movements form hidden spaces of hate and radical milieus. A hid-
den space of hate is a closed social network where activists cultivate col-
lective identity and plan protest activity while avoiding outside interference
from law enforcement and enemies (Simi & Futrell, 2015). Whether digital
or physical, hidden spaces of hate are instrumental to right-wing movements,
 Digitally Mediated Spillover as a Catalyst of Radicalization 147

given the time and resources required to transform members of the general
public into committed extremists (Atran, 2021; Simi & Futrell, 2015). Move-
ment leaders create hidden spaces of hate to foment feelings of isolation,
despair, and anger as well as a collective identity that supplants activists’
individual identity (Atran, 2021). A radical milieu is a large social network
comprising extremists and sympathetic members of the general public, who
encourage one another to adopt extremist ideology and employ violent or
antisocial tactics. Radical milieus are the social environments that produce
ideological and behavioral extremism (Malthaner & Waldmann, 2014).
Taken together, scholarship on pathways into radicalization suggests
that the recent wave of right-wing extremism is due to a combination of
macrostructural trends that threatened white and male dominance, thereby
incentivizing the formation of hidden spaces of hate for movement expan-
sion and radical milieus for increased dialogue with the general public. The
algorithms, features, and affordances of social media technology accelerated
nationwide radicalization by conveying extremist ideology to segments of the
population that did not seek it out voluntarily (Zhuravskaya et al., 2020).
However, despite the explanatory power of scholarship cited above, it does
not account for the mass radicalization of conservative student movements.
Conservative student organizations have a preexisting commitment to the
electoral process and social pluralism. They are not hidden spaces of hate, and
their preexisting ideological commitments should – in theory – make mem-
bers more resistant to extremist ideological appeals. Some social scientists
offer a different explanation for this radicalization, although it is highly prob-
lematic. A recent body of scholarship explains the recent surge of right-wing
extremism on college campuses with a theory of “entryism,” which argues
that right-wing extremist organizations like the Proud Boys and the American
Identity Movement (formerly Identity Evropa) send members to college cam-
puses to infiltrate and coopt conservative student organizations in the hopes
of sending right-wing extremists into Congress (ADL, 2019; Miller-Idriss,
2020). The concept of entryism emerged in case studies of successful infiltra-
tion attempts as well as in internal documents from extremist organizations.
Although entryism provides a partial explanation for right-wing extremism
in universities, it is inadequate. First, despite their outsized political influ-
ence, right-wing extremist organizations have insufficient personnel and
funding to stage a national conspiracy. Moreover, the fractious nature of
right-wing extremist movements often impedes their execution of complex
plans (Simi & Windisch, 2020). For instance, Patriot Front, the organization
responsible for the majority of reported white supremacist recruitment flyers
on college campuses between 2017 and 2019, is now defunct (ADL, 2019).
Second, the radicalization of conservative youth organizations has occurred
in locations where there are no known extremist organizations that recruit
on university campuses. Third, entryism assumes that a few infiltrators can
148 Adam Burston

fundamentally alter organizations that have a preexisting ideological com-

mitment to moderate conservatism and civic engagement. Other literature
suggests that group radicalization is a time-consuming process that requires
majority consensus (Atran, 2021; Simi & Futrell, 2015). Thus, infiltrating
and radicalizing student organization en masse are beyond the capabilities of
contemporary hate organizations.
In light of the shortcomings of current explanations for radicalization on
college campuses, this study sought, and developed, an alternative explana-
tion. This alternative is the process of digital mediated spillover. This new
notion was informed by a grounded theory analysis and interpretation of
the results of a multisite ethnography of a right-leaning college conserva-
tive movement student organization, the procedures and research methods of
which are described as follows.

Method

Field Sites
Data for this study come from a multisite ethnography of a conservative
social movement, College Conservatives for Freedom and Liberty (hereaf-
ter CCFL). CCFL is one of several organizations for politically conservative
college and high school students who wish to participate in activism and
electoral politics. CCFL’s primary goals are spreading conservative values on
university campuses and achieving electoral victories for Republican and Lib-
ertarian candidates. Every CCFL chapter meets weekly or biweekly and relies
on digital chat platforms, like GroupMe and Facebook Messenger, to keep
members connected between organizational meetings. I entered the field in
January 2018 and concluded my study in December 2021.
My initial goal in doing a multisite ethnography was to capture impor-
tant variations in regional and local political culture. In order to understand
these variations, I studied a CCFL chapter in three U.S. census regions1: The
West, the Northeast, and the South. In each census region, I studied a flag-
ship public university located in a mid-size city. I selected public universi-
ties because they recruit heavily from the local population, enabling me to
better understand the influence of local culture on activism. I assigned each
university and CCFL chapter a pseudonym based on their census region.
West Coast University (hereafter W-CCFL)2 is situated in a progressive
city in a state that is considered a bulwark of Democratic party votership.
East Coast University (hereafter E-CCFL) is located on the border of the
Midwest and East Coast and attracts students from both census regions.
East Coast University is located in a purple state that is hotly contested
by Democrats and Republicans during election season. Southern University
(hereafter S-CCFL) is located in a majority Republican city in a state that
 Digitally Mediated Spillover as a Catalyst of Radicalization 149

has a nationwide reputation as a bastion of Republican votership and con-

servative culture.
The ethnographic research involved a mixture of 34 behavioral observa-
tions, 64 interviews,3 and a review of organizational documents and social
media activity at each field site.4 At Western University (January 2017 to
March 2018), I conducted 21 instances of observation and 24 interviews;
at Eastern University, I conducted 8 instances of observation and 22 inter-
views; at Southern University, I conducted 5 instances of observation and
15 interviews. During interviews, I offered informants a research laptop and
asked them to show me how they use social media in their activism. Inform-
ants at W-CCFL, the most extreme field site and the primary focus of this
chapter, refused to show me their social media activity, having sworn an
oath of secrecy to leadership. At this field site, I had to rely on my inform-
ants’ descriptions of their social media behavior. Table 7.1 summarizes basic
demographics of the informants.
During the chapters’ organizational meetings, activists met face to face for
60 to 90 minutes. Because the majority of organizational meetings consisted
of debates and strategy sessions, I was able to take highly detailed records
of dialogue which appear more like transcripts or meeting notes than typical
ethnographic fieldnotes from dynamic settings. During fundraisers and cam-
paigning events, my fieldnotes were more focused on behavior than dialogue.
At each field site, I began by introducing myself to the president and ask-
ing their permission to describe my research project to the members. In my
announcement, I gave members the opportunity to opt out of being included
in my fieldnotes. I did not audio record meetings due to a prohibition by my
university’s Institutional Review Board for the protection of human research
participants. Below, interview and fieldnote excerpts with direct quotations
are presented in double quotation marks (“”), while paraphrased statements
are in single quotation marks (‘’).

Coding and Analysis

My concept of digitally mediated spillover was developed using grounded
theory analysis (Corbin & Strauss, 2008; Saldaña, 2013). I used Atlas.Ti to
apply codes to the data. In a preliminary round of “process coding,” I labeled
each sentence with gerunds to capture social action (Saldaña, 2013). Exam-
ples of axial codes include “encountering extremism online” and “enforc-
ing group hierarchy.” Subsequently, I completed “axial coding” in which
I removed redundant codes and grouped thematically similar codes under
a common heading. For instance, “memeing,” “making fun of peers,” and
similar codes were unified under the code: “Strategic humor.” I completed
the analysis by synthesizing the axial codes to develop my model of digitally
mediated spillover.
TABLE 7.1 Informant Data

150
Pseudonym Age Race Religion Annual Parental Political Ideology at Radicalization

Adam Burston
Income Range ($) Time of Interview Source

W-CCFL
Antonio 22 White Agnostic 50,000–69,999 Moderate Digital Movement
Atticus 21 White Christian 200,000–249,999 Moderate NA
Bruce 22 White Agnostic 100,000–149,999 Extremist Digital Movement
Caleb 20 White Christian 74,000–99,999 Extremist Digital Movement
Chloe – Black Christian – Progressive NA
Daphne 21 White Christian 50,000–74,999 Moderate NA
David – Hispanic Christian – Extremist Digital Movement
Dustin 24 White Christian 250,000–299,999 Moderate NA
Eddy 19 Hispanic Christian 25,000–50,000 Extremist CCFL
Garrett 29 White Christian 25,000–50,000 Moderate NA
James 21 White Christian 200,000–249,999 Extremist Digital Movement
Joe 22 White Agnostic – Moderate NA
Josh 19 White Atheist 150,000–199,999 Moderate NA
Justin 20 White Atheist 150,000–199,999 Extremist CCFL
Martin 18 White Christian 200,000–250,000 Extremist CCFL
Michael 20 Hispanic Christian 25,000–49,999 Extremist Digital Movement
Sahil 20 South Asian Agnostic 300,000+ Extremist CCFL
Scott 21 White Agnostic – Extremist Digital Movement
Sebastian 24 Male Christian 50,000–75,000 Extremist CCFL
Sheila 19 White Christian 75,000–99,999 Moderate NA
Shoshana 18 White Jewish 300,000+ Moderate NA
Summer 21 Hispanic Christian 75,000–99,999 Moderate NA
Taylor 26 White Christian 100,000–149,999 Moderate CCFL
(Continued)
TABLE 7.1 (Continued)

Pseudonym Age Race Religion Annual Parental Political Ideology at Radicalization

Income Range ($) Time of Interview Source

E-CCFL
Aaron 21 White Christian 100,000–149,000 Moderate NA
Alek 19 White Christian 100,000–149,000 Moderate NA
Alfred 20 White Christian 75,000–99,999 Moderate NA
Asher 20 White Jewish 300,000+ Moderate NA

Digitally Mediated Spillover as a Catalyst of Radicalization 151

Connor 19 White Christian 150,000–199,999 Moderate NA
Haim 20 White Jewish 300,000+ Moderate Digital Movement
Isaac 21 White Jewish 75,000–99,999 Moderate NA
Jason 23 White Christian 200,000–249,999 Moderate NA
Jon 21 White Christian – Moderate NA
Mario 20 White Christian 300,000+ Moderate NA
Mary 19 Black Christian 75,000–99,999 Moderate NA
Pam 19 White Christian 25,000–49,999 Moderate NA
Patrick 20 White Christian 75,000–99,999 Moderate Digital Movement
Paul 20 White Christian 300,000+ Moderate NA
Rich 20 White Christian 300,000+ Moderate NA
Robert 22 White Atheist 100,000 Moderate Digital Movement
Smith 19 White Christian 100,000–149,999 Moderate NA
Thomas 20 White Christian 100,000–149,999 Moderate Digital Movement
Timothy 20 White Christian 100,000–149,999 Moderate Digital Movement
Tyler 20 White Christian 75,000–99,999 Moderate NA
Vinay 18 South Asian Christian 100,000–149,000 Moderate NA

(Continued)
TABLE 7.1 (Continued)

152
Pseudonym Age Race Religion Annual Parental Political Ideology at Radicalization

Adam Burston
Income Range ($) Time of Interview Source

S-CCFL
Barry 20 White Christian 50,000–74,999 Moderate NA
Bethany – White Christian – Moderate NA
Charles 23 White Christian 150,000–199,999 Moderate NA
Connor 18 White Christian 300,000+ Moderate NA
Davis 20 White Christian 150,000–199,999 Moderate NA
Elijah 22 Black Christian 50,000–74,999 Moderate NA
George – White Christian 300,000+ Moderate NA
Isabelle 19 White Christian 200,000–249,999 Moderate NA
Jacobo 22 Hispanic Christian 25,000–49,000 Moderate NA
Jake – White Christian 200,000–249,999 Moderate NA
Joseph 22 White Christian 300,000+ Moderate NA
Locke 21 Hispanic Deist 150,000–199,999 Moderate NA
Tony 19 Asian Christian 300,000+ Moderate NA
William 19 White Christian 25,000–49,999 Moderate NA
Note: This table contains demographic information for interviewees at each of the three field sites. In total, there were 12 extremists at W-CCFL. Seven were
radicalized in digital social movements, and six were radicalized during their time at CCFL.
 Digitally Mediated Spillover as a Catalyst of Radicalization 153

Findings
Computer-mediated communication has enabled a new form of social move-
ment that operates primarily or exclusively online (Kasimov, 2023). This new
type of social movement enables a new type of spillover – digitally mediated
spillover. Digitally mediated spillover occurs when activists who participated
in a digital social movement enter a new movement, bringing their ideology
and culture, tactical repertoires, and social networks. Thus far, instances of
digitally mediated spillover have garnered too little social scientific attention
save for a few high-profile instances such as the Unite the Right Rally (2017)
and the January 6th insurrection (2021) in which activists belonging to digital
hate movements coordinated lethal, offline protests. This study demonstrates
that spillover from extremist digital movements into offline communities may
actually be a common occurrence.
The following sections outline my theory of digitally mediated spillover.
First, I explain why digitally mediated spillover is a unique product of 21st
century activism and a common occurrence on college campuses. I explain
that preexisting organizational dynamics at W-CCFL rendered it vulnera-
ble to digitally mediated spillover and radicalization. Lastly, I explain that
digitally mediated spillover facilitated radicalization in three phases. First,
activists at W-CCFL developed an extremist collective identity. Second, as
formerly moderate activists at W-CCFL began spending more time in extrem-
ist digital spaces, they became ideologically extreme and transformed their
Facebook Messenger chat into a radical milieu. Third, W-CCFL became
a tactically extremist organization and adopted antisocial, nondemocratic
­tactics before imploding.

Digitally Mediated Spillover on College Campuses

Digitally mediated spillover occurred at each field site when former partici-
pants of the Manosphere and the Alt-Right joined CCFL. The Manosphere is
a loose coalition of digital, male supremacist movements containing Gamer-
gate, the redpill, and others, while the Alt-Right is a loose coalition of digi-
tal, white supremacist and ethnonationalist movements. In total, 11 of my
informants were extremists in high school, during which time they immersed
themselves in cyberhate, shared extremist memes, and participated in online
collective action such as harassment campaigns, disinformation campaigns,
and helping Donald Trump gain popularity with “meme magic.” I refer to
these individuals as “agents of spillover.” It is notable that none of these
agents of spillover was raised in ideologically extreme households. All of
them became extremists online in one of two ways: Via social media and via
online multiplayer video games.
The first and primary sites of online radicalization were social media plat-
forms with large user bases and lax content moderation policies, like 4chan,
154 Adam Burston

Reddit, and YouTube. Aaron, an extremist new member of E-CCFL, discov-

ered right-wing cyberculture while exploring 4chan’s /lit (literature) forum.
He showed me the literature forum, and he mentioned that it is common for
/lit’s members to post pictures of their bookshelves:

Aaron: This is pretty normal, they’ll post pictures of their book stacks.
This guy seems to be a little edgy.
Researcher: Oh, okay, sure. What do you mean edgy?
Aaron: He could just be a little extreme is what I’m trying to get at, he
has Mein Kampf on his shelf.
Researcher: Oh, and How the West Won. Okay, Protocols of Zion.

By pursuing his passion for literature on 4chan, Aaron was continuously

exposed to extremist ideology, which he shared with members of E-CCFL, a
moderate social movement organization.
Similarly, Antonio, an activist at W-CCFL, participated in the Gamergate
movement. He described how his frustration with feminist critiques of the
video game industry led him to join the male supremacist movement in high
school:

Antonio: It wasn’t until my senior year when Gamergate broke out and
I’ve always been a big-game nerd. . . . And then there was this big
thing of people starting to say like, “Games are promoting toxic
masculinity. Games promote this evil image. They’re not inclusive
enough for women” . . . I was alone, I was an only child. My
parents didn’t care about video games. I wasn’t talking to people
so . . . Of course, the Internet’s there . . . and you start finding a
community of people who are like, “Yeah, this is awful. What are
they [feminists] doing to video games?”

Like Antonio, after prolonged participation in online right-wing movements,

other individuals who would become agents of spillover began to believe that
left-wing social movements posed an existential threat to American society.
The second site of online radicalization was multiplayer video games.
These game platforms were ideal for recruitment into extremist movements
because of their chat functionality that enables players to communicate via
instant messages and over audio chat without scrutiny from content modera-
tors. For instance, James, a white supremacist at W-CCFL, explained that he
discovered the Alt-Right after going through a breakup in high school. Seek-
ing to relieve his loneliness, he recruited people on 4chan’s /pol/ board (a hub
of Alt-Right activism) to play video games with him.

James: I’ve never mentioned this, but I met a lot of different alt-righters by
playing Minecraft. This is really deep lore, because I went through
 Digitally Mediated Spillover as a Catalyst of Radicalization 155

a really bad breakup in high school. And then I played a shit-ton of

Minecraft. . . . I formed a town, and I recruited off of the “pol board.”
All of these right-wingers playing Minecraft and taking things way
too seriously. Because it’s so funny how the modern alt-right comes
from so many different avenues.

James’ new, white supremacist friends encouraged him to migrate from

4chan to websites exclusively dedicated to white supremacist movements.
By the time James entered university, he was a committed white supremacist
who sought to teach his fellow students about the biological superiority of
White Christians over Black people and Jews.
Robert, an activist at E-CCFL, developed a deep fascination with fascism
after accidentally joining a transnational, Alt-Right group chat in high school.

[At War] is actually like a war game. And we got it, because myself, my
brothers, my cousins – we live far apart. And we went to a wedding my
freshman year of high school and we were like, “hey wouldn’t it be good
if we found an online game to play together?” . . . but there’s a forum on
it . . . [with a thread] called “off topic forum.” Certainly, I knew about the
alt-right before the media did . . . you can read like paragraphs of them
connecting Jewish businessmen from Germany and the Ottoman Empire
and Armenia.

Although Robert was not a committed extremist upon entering university, his
fascination with fascism persisted. Upon joining E-CCFL, he created a pri-
vate group chat on GroupMe in which he introduced his peers to pro-fascist
content.
Digitally mediated spillover began when extremists like Antonio, Aaron,
James, and Robert applied to their respective CCFL chapters after partici-
pating in extremist digital social movements in high school. CCFL chapters
welcomed these activists into their midst with open arms. Although most
agents of spillover were no longer active members of extremist digital move-
ments upon joining CCFL, they remained “lurkers” who frequently browsed
extremist online platforms. Thus, they were able to share with their new
friends the latest memes, jargon, and ideological developments from extrem-
ist digital movements. Agents of spillover exposed their peers to the ideolo-
gies and tactics from extremist digital movements in their chapters’ digital
group chats and in face-to-face organizational meetings.
I witnessed digitally mediated spillover occur in CCFL chapters through-
out the United States. Contrary to entryism, which assumes that extremists
are deliberate and insidious infiltrators, the primary reason why extremists
entered CCFL was a genuine desire for like-minded peers. Extremists entered
CCLF the same way other freshman would: By contacting recruiters at the
school-wide club fairs and on social media. Whereas entryism argues that
156 Adam Burston

extremists strategically share their ideology with the intention of radicalizing

others, agents of spillover began to spread extremist ideology at CCFL by
honestly sharing their perspectives and trying to help with organizational
activities.

Susceptibility to Spillover and Radicalization

The remainder of this chapter will focus on W-CCFL, the field site situated
in West Coast University. Agents of spillover came to radicalize W-CCFL
because of two factors that differentiated them from their peers at other field
sites. First, a comparatively large number of them were accepted to East Coast
University and happened to join W-CCFL at the same time, making them a
sizeable minority. Second, the moderate incumbent leaders at W-CCFL were
incompetent and, by numerous accounts, too cowardly to mobilize in pursuit
of CCFL’s objectives: Spreading conservative culture on campus and cam-
paigning for Republican and Libertarian candidates.
This cowardice was not without cause. Following the 2016 U.S. presi-
dential election, W-CCFL activists were being constantly targeted and har-
assed by vengeful progressive activists who were enraged by Trump’s victory.
Sheila, a moderate member of W-CCFL, recalls being tagged in a Facebook
post with a picture of W-CCFL captioned: “These are the conservatives on
campus. They don’t deserve to feel safe.”5 Similarly, Daphne was tagged
in Facebook posts by progressive activists who encouraged others to shun
her on- and offline because of her political beliefs. Worst of all, progressive
activists routinely blocked W-CCFL activists’ efforts to secure funding, even
though this violated university policy.
Hardened by combative digital activism, agents of spillover were disgusted
by the passivity of CCFL leadership. They had already experienced heated
debates on 4chan, coordinated the pro-Trump meme campaigns that helped
him ascend to office, and staged raids of progressive online communities
that filled them with extremist memes and iconography. Agents of spillover
believed that the pugnacious ideology and tactics they learned online would
translate well offline.
David, a former participant in the Gamergate and redpill movements,
assumed an informal leadership position. He convinced other agents of spill-
over to join him and coordinated a counter offensive. He explained:

David: One of my gripes with the [former] board was that they didn’t really
care about activism; they were afraid of offending people and they
were afraid of seeming controversial. And I would say the majority
of the club agreed with that sentiment. . . . I was advocating “we
should do more activism, we should be more controversial. Who
cares what they think about us? They’re always gonna hate us.”
 Digitally Mediated Spillover as a Catalyst of Radicalization 157

With the help of other extremists, David led his fellow activists to the student
union to demand funding for the club. At the student union, David’s peers
watched with admiration as he faced dozens of angry progressives. Many
hurled insults, and one threatened him with physical assault.6
Whereas previous leaders saw misfortune in progressives’ attacks against
their club, David saw opportunity. Taking inspiration from “Ben Shapiro
Owns the Libs” videos on YouTube, he decided to turn his liberal oppo-
sition into a viral laughingstock. He instructed his fellow CCFL members
to remain calm as they endured harassment from liberal counter-protestors.
He captured the contentious interaction on video and uploaded the footage
to YouTube where viewers watched angry liberals harassing stoic W-CCFL
activists. David ensured that his video garnered attention across the spec-
trum of right-wing politics, from conventional conservative news outlets to
extremist corners of the Internet. The ensuing public outrage forced West
Coast University to give W-CCFL funding, and it drove up recruitment. After
this hard-won victory, everyone in W-CCFL begged David to run for an
elected position. He ran uncontested for the presidency and filled his execu-
tive board with other agents of spillover. In the following sections, I explain
how David’s presidency and W-CCFL’s newfound trust in extremists yielded
three phases of radicalization.

Phase 1: Immersion in Extremist, Digital Culture Leads to

an Edgy Collective Identity
Radicalization began slowly at W-CCFL. Agents of spillover began to slowly
expose their moderate peers to jargon and memes that originated in extrem-
ist segments of the Internet. This occurred both offline in organizational
meetings and online in their Facebook Messenger group chat. While it is
commonly understood that ideology and jargon can translate from online to
offline contexts, memes are commonly understood as an exclusively digital
phenomenon because they usually comprise a photo, video, or gif, with a text
catchphrase. However, the W-CCFL informants explained that when a meme
becomes ubiquitous, the imagery or idea behind the meme can be invoked
simply by reciting its catchphrase. Examples of meme catchphrases include
the phrases “2–1” (the idea that the second amendment upholds the first
amendment) and “no dox” (a phrase indicating that the speaker is about to
share an extremist perspective and does not want to be “doxed” or exposed
to the public as an extremist). By acclimating moderates to extremist memes,
agents of spillover were also acclimating them to the underlying ideologies
within the memes: White supremacy, ethnonationalism, and male supremacy.
At this stage, moderates did not fully understand the extreme nature of the
content they were being exposed to. For instance, Sheila casually mentioned
that in group chats, her peers joked “about the future for white children
158 Adam Burston

or something like that.” This is a direct reference to the white supremacist

creed, The Fourteen Words: “We must secure the existence of our people and
a future for white children” (Simi & Futrell, 2015, p. 22).
By design, extremist memes did not alienate moderates. In extremist digital
cultures, the individuals who post memes have plausible deniability (i.e., it’s
just a joke) when their peers are shocked and offended and receive acclaim
when their peers find the meme humorous (Milner, 2013; Windisch & Simi,
2023). In offline spaces where memes are divorced from their digital con-
text of origin, they still serve this purpose. This is illustrated in an exchange
in which Sebastian, a former member of the redpill movement, argues that
Catholic education should replace American public education. He was sup-
ported by James, a white supremacist, and Silva, a Nazi sympathizer. These
extremists disarmed moderates’ shock with memes and hyperbolic rhetoric,
staples of extremist digital culture.

Sebastian: Maybe I’m too black pilled on this issue, but we need to turn
schools over to the Catholic church. I’m protestant, so I would
normally advocate for protestant education, but the protestant
church is too fragmented; there are too many heretics. If we can’t
bring Christian morals back into public schools, we are doomed.
Also, we’re forgetting that people can go to hell! Why aren’t we
worried about the moral salvation of American children? We are
an Anglo-protestant nation, Christian morality in schools is the
American way.
Jude: Um, excuse me? Does separation of church and state mean
anything to you? Our founding fathers wanted a separation of
church and state. Parents should teach morals at home. School
should be where you learn that 2 plus 2 is four and how to read.
Sebastian: I agree that they believed in the separation of church and state,
but I think that there’s a high wall between church and state
and we need to lower it. Obviously, the state would be run by
non-godly authorities, but students would have a good Catholic
education. Look we’re a Judeo-Christian nation.
Silva: Judeo?
Sebastian: Okay, just Christian.
James: Based!
[Club laughs]

In the above interaction, “black pilled” is a redpill meme/designation indicat-

ing that one’s hopes for a male supremacist future have been dashed, result-
ing in nihilism or a desire for violence (Preston et al., 2021). “Based” is
cyberjargon, usually posted in response to memes, to indicate approval of an
 Digitally Mediated Spillover as a Catalyst of Radicalization 159

underlying idea. The use of such extreme language (e.g., heretics, doomed) is
a rhetorical strategy to cast doubt on the seriousness of the point being raised
(Milner, 2013). Whereas moderates heard this statement and assumed Sebas-
tian was being playfully hyperbolic, extremists understood he was expressing
his true beliefs. Shoshana, a moderate Jewish member of W-CCFL, reflected
on this interaction and explained that she found it funny:

Shoshana: Last week, one of the guys was like we should have a . . . manda-
tory Catholic school system. And then they talked about it, but
then after, I was just like, “What about the Jews?” blah, blah,
blah. But I mean, that’s a joke. I mean he probably doesn’t think
so, but to everyone else it was a joke.

The plausible deniability afforded by memes was so strong that a misogynist,

white supremacist, and Nazi sympathizer could belong to same organization
as a Jewish woman without raising her suspicions.
As moderates became more accustomed to extremists’ humor, extremists
increased the vitriol of their jokes. Numerous informants explained that their
humor was racist, sexist, and often joked about acts of brutality and mass
casualty violence. Michael, a former member of The redpill, simply described
the humor as “kill all of group x.” Formerly moderate men began participat-
ing in this humor, because it was enjoyable to break the stifling, progressive
norm of political correctness at West Coast University. The thrill of sharing
hate content was exhilarating to these men, because the potential discovery
of such extreme content within their Messenger posts could have serious
ramifications (e.g., expulsion from school). Men in W-CCFL began referring
to posting memes with terms like “bonding” and “brotherhood.” In con-
trast, many moderate women were shocked and offended by the denigrating
content about women. Some of these offended women (e.g., Daphne, Chloe)
demanded that the men change their posting behavior whereas others (Sheila,
Taylor) tried to acclimate themselves to misogynist humor. Fights between
extremists and aggrieved moderate women reached a fever pitch when Anto-
nio, an extremist, found an innovative solution: He created a separate Face-
book group chat for moderate women so that extremists could continue
posting misogynist content.
Eventually, extremist digital content altered the culture of W-CCFL. Spe-
cifically, immersion in cyberhate began to alter W-CCFL’s collective identity
or their “shared definition of a group that derives from members’ common
interests, experiences, and solidarity” (Taylor & Whittier, 1992, p. 105).
Across the nation, most CCFL activists refer to themselves as “conservative,”
reflecting their commitment to moderate conservatism. At W-CCFL, activists
began referring to themselves as “edgy” or “edgy memelords,” a designation
160 Adam Burston

that signifies cultural competence in cyberhate. Informants described what is

entailed in being edgy:

Sahil (extremist): What is edgy? I guess the easiest way to coin it is nonpo-
litically correct. . . . If a liberal saw it . . . They’d be like
“What the fuck is that? That’s racist and xenophobic!”
Sheila (moderate): What’s edgy? . . . The same stuff, I could post on my nor-
mal timeline, and people would be like, “Whoa, that’s
not cool.” Like, “How dare you joke about that? It’s too
soon,” kind of stuff. . . . And then there’s context. So, if
you post an anti-Semitic meme on a Jewish group’s Face-
book page, that’s pretty awful. But if you post it in your
private shitposting group, it’s received a lot better.

Given that collective identity determines a social movement’s goals and the
tactics deemed appropriate to achieve them, the widespread adoption of an
edgy identity marked a significant step in W-CCFL’s radicalization.
Their edgy collective identity led moderates and new members of W-CCFL
to try and impress their peers by making increasingly offensive jokes on- and
offline. Mimicking dynamics common in extremist digital forums, moderates
felt frustrated when their attempts at edgy humor fell flat, because they felt
like outsiders.

Sheila: I could literally say some of the worst shit in our shitposting [chat]
groups, and it’s not that edgy. They would call me out on it for not
being that edgy. . . . They just don’t wanna admit the fact that a
woman can meme just as hard as them.

Another aspect of edginess is that when someone is offended by extremist

memes, they are subject to ridicule. Pressure on moderates to share extrem-
ist memes and the looming threat of ridicule incentivized moderates to hide
any residual discomfort they had with extremist humor. Pressure to ramp up
extremism transformed W-CCFL’s Facebook Messenger chat into a hidden
space of hate, a closed social network that produces radicalization (Simi &
Futrell, 2015).

Phase 2: Ideological Extremism and Integration into a Radical Milieu

Under the guise of edginess, extremist activists began to strategically dissemi-
nate their ideologies from the Manosphere and the Alt-Right. For instance,
Max, a male supremacist, tried to popularize the idea that women should
not be allowed to vote, while James, a white supremacist, wanted his peers
to acknowledge the biological superiority of white Christians. James, one of
 Digitally Mediated Spillover as a Catalyst of Radicalization 161

the extremists, used the guise of edginess to paste memes directly from 4chan,
Reddit, and hate websites into W-CCFL’s Facebook Messenger chat:

James: Already, these people [moderates] share Alt-Right memes, talking

points. Even about IQ [differences between racial groups]. Even
if they disagree with what we’re saying, the fact that they’re even
engaging is a sign of our influence.

As former moderates became increasingly interested in extremist ideology,

agents of spillover advanced radicalization by introducing their peers to
extremist social networks.
While some extremists encouraged their peers to visit 4chan and Red-
dit, others began inviting extremists from the online Manosphere and the
Alt-Right directly into W-CCFL’s Facebook Messenger chat. W-CCFL’s group
chat ballooned in size from several dozen members and alumni to more than
1,000 members at its peak. This drastic expansion of W-CCFL’s social net-
work introduced former moderates into a radical milieu, an open social net-
work that brought CCFL activists into contact with extremist activists from
other digital movements (Malthaner & Waldmann, 2014).
The rapidly evolving culture on W-CCFL’s group chats was disconcerting
to the remaining moderates, now a minority, who were not used to interact-
ing with denizens of 4chan, Reddit, and cyberhate. For instance, a lot of
the extremists who joined W-CCFL’s group chat used fake names and fake
profile pictures because they knew it would be catastrophic for their social
lives and careers if the hate content they posted was linked to their identity.
Daphne explained, “If you have to have a fake account to feel comfortable
posting this, then maybe you just shouldn’t be posting it. Because it’s just not
a good thing to be posting, you know?” Daphne and other moderates longed
for a return to the days when the chat was merely an extension of W-CCFL.
Other W-CCFL activists began anonymizing their digital presence for fear
that they would be unemployable if the group chat was exposed. The content
in the group chat became so extreme that on numerous occasions, it was
“perma-Zucked,” or permanently banned by Facebook’s content moderators
for violating their hate speech policies. Like most extremist digital communi-
ties, W-CCFL quickly reestablished their social media network on another
platform after bans (Johnson et al., 2019).
As W-CCFL’s online social network continued to expand, they began to
make contact with high-profile extremists. Chloe, a Black, female, moderate,
was enraged to learn that David was Facebook friends with George Zimmer-
man, an outspoken white supremacist who stalked and killed Trayvon Mar-
tin, an unarmed Black teenager, in 2012. In 2018, W-CCFL activists made
digital contact with a prominent redpill activist and invited him to speak at
their next meeting. This redpill blogger went by his screenname, GayLubeOil.
162 Adam Burston

Even some extremists were shocked when GayLubeOil spoke about his Red-
dit posts advocating for physically disciplining women, “treating women like
children,” and celebrating the sexual prowess of Nazis. GayLubeOil’s speech
signified another milestone in digitally mediated spillover and radicalization
at W-CCFL. By leveraging the ideologies and social networks from digital
hate activism, extremists expanded the organization’s social network to
include high-profile extremists. All that remained to complete radicalization
was for W-CCFL to adopt extreme and antisocial tactics.

Phase 3: Tactical Extremism and Organizational Implosion

After an extensive immersion in extremist digital communities, many
W-CCFL members soured on democracy. They embraced the supremacist
belief that an enfranchised, pluralistic electorate would plunge the nation
into its “degeneracy.” Even in Trump’s America, W-CCFL activists no longer
believed that the democratic process could bring about their desired future.
W-CCFL activists adopted a new tactical repertoire which they described as
“winning the culture war.” In theory, this was a noble campaign to change
the hearts and minds of young Americans. In practice, this involved antiso-
cial and anti-democratic tactics.
First, W-CCFL activists transitioned from being consumers of cyberhate
to disseminators. In order to increase the number of American youth who
sympathized with their cause, W-CCFL activists posted extremist content on
popular social media platforms like 4chan, Reddit, and Facebook. Bruce, a
white supremacist and antisemite, boasted about his ability to spread hate
ideology on Facebook where his meme pages had cumulatively garnered hun-
dreds of thousands of members and millions of likes.
As W-CCFL radicalized, members felt that even the most right-wing
Republicans were too moderate. These accusations even applied to their for-
mer idol, Donald Trump:

James (extremist): The Republican Establishment doesn’t give a fuck about

advancing a conservative agenda –
Atticus (moderate): Trump is the establishment! He’s president.
Max (extremist): That doesn’t mean anything!
James (extremist): Absolutely right, it doesn’t mean anything. The Repub-
lican establishment doesn’t care anymore. They’ve won.
They have nothing more to gain, so they kowtow to the
left. They’re fucking worthless.

Offline, W-CCFL’s relationships with Republican and Libertarian politicians

suffered.
Roughly half of W-CCFL activists adopted an authoritarian ideology. One
group of authoritarians believed that voting should be reserved for a privileged
 Digitally Mediated Spillover as a Catalyst of Radicalization 163

segment of the population. For instance, Martin suggested the United States
should implement rigorous IQ tests to determine voter eligibility:

It’s not like I want to take away voting rights from Black people, Women,
Asians, or whatever. . . . But to be honest, I have a hot take. If it did dis-
proportionately affect Black people because of mental deficiencies, maybe
that’s okay.

Other activists like David believed that the United States should reconvene
the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) to prevent socialists,
communists, and progressives from holding public office. A second group of
authoritarians wanted to abolish voting entirely. For instance, Caleb wanted
Mussolini-style fascism; Silva wanted Nazi-inspired “nationalist socialism;”
James supported a white supremacist regime; and Eddy wanted an authori-
tarian surveillance state in which leaders “rule through fear.”
As is the case with many extremist movements, W-CCFL activists felt
they had no direct pathway to create their desired totalitarian state (Simi &
­Windisch, 2020). Instead, they settled for a tactical repertoire based on
trolling their enemies and “gaslighting the Dems.” Trolling occurs when
an antagonistic individual or group makes a target or another individual
or group exhibit distress, then documents this distress, and posts the docu-
mentation on social media. W-CCFL activists held strategy sessions where
they debated how best to adapt this digital strategy for offline use to “rustle
some jimmies” [meme speak for causing anger] and “freak out the femi-
nists.” W-CCFL activists laughed and cheered as they recalled previous suc-
cess and imagined future victories trolling undocumented immigrants and
feminists. They also began entering classes taught by progressive professors
and speaking engagements featuring progressive intellectuals in order to ask
questions designed to enrage, befuddle, and publicly humiliate their targets.
Subsequently, W-CCFL activists enjoyed posting these interactions on social
media, eliciting a wave of support.
Although many W-CCFL activists no longer believed in the electoral sys-
tem, they continued to campaign for Republican and Libertarian candidates.
This is because they had a vested interest in “gaslighting the Dems” or inten-
tionally making stops at Democratic households to share heavily skewed if
not entirely false information about Democratic candidates. This included
exaggerated rumors about Democratic taxes on fossil fuels, to conspiracy
theories suggesting that Democrats had a racist hidden agenda. In meetings,
extremists justified this tactic by explaining that, “a Democrat that stays
home is like a vote for the Republican party!”
After repeatedly adapting digital ideologies and tactics for offline use,
W-CCFL leaders grew careless and released a public statement on their website
replete with memes and references to extremist digital movements. This state-
ment condemned local politicians for failure to act against “transgenderism”
164 Adam Burston

and “degeneracy.” This criticism of local politicians was met with outrage
from their political sponsors and parent organization. Local politicians sev-
ered ties with W-CCFL, replacing them with a different conservative youth
organization. W-CCFL was also de-chartered from its parent organization.
Some of the remaining moderates grew enraged that extremists had ren-
dered W-CCFL financially and politically impotent. They began “doxxing”
extremists and leaking excerpts of the group chat to university administra-
tors and the student newspaper in the hopes of getting their former allies
expelled. Fearing for their careers, extremists in W-CCFL deleted their group
chat and other digital evidence of their extremism. In doing so, they effec-
tively disbanded their online community and deleted the digital platforms
that enabled them to fight the culture war. Like many extremist organiza-
tions, W-CCFL imploded (Simi & Futrell, 2015; Simi & Windisch, 2020).

Conclusion
This chapter introduces the concept of digitally mediated spillover. This con-
cept advances our understanding of both the social processes of online hate
and social movement dynamics, namely the nationwide radicalization and
extremism of formerly moderate conservative youth groups. Digitally medi-
ated spillover advances theory about the social processes of online hate by
demonstrating that these social processes are easily translated to new on- and
offline contexts. To radicalize their peers, agents of spillover imported digital
cultures, ideologies, and tactics from the Alt-Right and the Manosphere to a
Facebook Messenger chat and offline CCFL meetings.
Skeptics may claim that there is nothing innately digital about the culture,
ideologies, and tactics utilized by agents of spillover. After all, what differenti-
ates the redpill ideology from other manifestations of virulent sexism, memes
from traditional forms of humor, and trolling from harassment? While each
of these digital phenomena bear a strong resemblance to their offline coun-
terparts, they also contain referents to extremist digital movements. Redpill
ideology trains men to seek community in digital forums; memes cannot be
understood without exposure to the original, digital content; and trolling is
not finished until evidence has been posted online. These referents to digital
culture acclimate activists to digital extremist cultures and incentivize them
to participate more deeply. Acculturation to online extremism incentivized
W-CCFL activists to invite extremists into their Facebook Messenger chat
and flock to extremist digital movements on 4chan and Reddit. Thus, in
addition to adapting online social processes and practices from digital culture
for offline applications, digitally mediated spillover also encourages individu-
als to seek out and participate in digital culture.
Just as 20th-century feminism left an indelible mark on the nuclear freeze
movement, the Manosphere and the Alt-Right have left an indelible mark
 Digitally Mediated Spillover as a Catalyst of Radicalization 165

on many chapters of conservative youth movements throughout America.

Caleb, an extremist, attended a CCFL convention for every major chapter
located in the West Coast. He saw multiple activists carrying flags for “Keki-
stan,” a fictitious nation which symbolizes membership in the Alt-Right. This
indicates that extremists have indoctrinated future generations of Republican
and Libertarian leadership. Scholars and policy experts who wish to under-
stand and prevent further campus-based radicalization must gain a deeper
understanding of digitally mediated spillover and the diffuse social processes
by which extremist digital movements shape offline life.

Notes
1 https://www2.census.gov/geo/pdfs/maps-data/maps/reference/us_regdiv.pdf
2 Not to be confused with the actual West Coast University, a for-profit graduate
institution (https://westcoastuniversity.edu/).
3 Three of my interviews were follow-up interviews.
4 My ability to collect data at each site was mediated by a variety of factors such as
balancing coursework and teaching, limited and sporadic grant funding, the fre-
quency of meetings at each field site, and COVID-19.
5 Although CCFL activists did not show me their own social media posts, they had
no qualms about showing me antisocial tactics employed by their progressive
opponents.
6 Video coverage shows progressive antagonists insulting and threatening W-CCFL
activists.

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