VOICES: How come there’s so much hate in some Postindustrial Communities?

Truth be told, I’ve been procrastinating like crazy over writing this column. 

Even as I’m typing it, I still don’t want to do it. 

But it’s something I feel like I have to do, and the reasons are twofold. 

First off, in the communities Postindustrial covers, we’ve witnessed an alarming spike in the number of hate groups and toxic extremism. So, we can’t just ignore it. 

Not that we have. At Postindustrial, we’ve chronicled the rise of this abhorrent phenomena since our inception in 2018, both in feature stories, and the critically-acclaimed podcast we produced about armed militias and the hate some of them spew. 

Second, a few weeks ago (that’s how long I’ve been putting this column off), I had a sobering and illuminating conversation with someone who knows far more than I about hate groups and their recent surge in popularity.

Jeff Tischauser, a senior research analyst for the South Poverty Law Center, talked to me at length about hate and the reasons for its rise while I was driving from Western Pennsylvania to Northeast Ohio. 

The setting for our conversation was unfortunately apropos because both Pennsylvania and Ohio rank among the top five states in the country for hate groups, according to a recent SPLC report. 

With my eyes on the road cutting through farmland and forest, and my ears tuned to Jeff, we discussed what loathsome insanity has gripped the minds of so many in those parts and the root causes for it. 

He offered keen insights and several reasons for the rising tide of hate that I clearly had not considered with the same acuity as Jeff. After all, he’s a PHD with a focus on this topic, and I’m very much not in his same league when it comes to understanding the organized hate in our midst. 

Jeff spoke passionately about the “failure of the neo-liberal economic model” in recent decades, i.e., the shrinking American middle class, and how some communities — far too many in our neck of the woods — were “seemingly forgotten by elected officials.” 

Even residents of East Palestine, Ohio, only a few miles down the road during our conversation and still reeling from a toxic train derailment earlier this year, feel overlooked.

And when a community like East Palestine feels neglected and frustrated following a man-made disaster, that’s when the extremists swoop in to prey on their anger and insecurity. 

Jeff explained to my horror how the National Justice Party, a virulent anti-Semitic hate group founded in 2020, recently held a forum in East Palestine, spouting “conservative Christian talking points” and “ethno-dog whistles.”

When a community endures what the folks in East Palestine have, they’re bound to be furious, he noted. That anger is just what hate groups seek out when recruiting new members to their cause. 

Apparently, there’s plenty of hate to go around in Ohio, which, according to the SPLC, has at least 55 such groups currently operating in the Buckeye State. 

Another hate group is the “Blood Tribe,” which was founded in Maine, though its largest chapter now resides in Ohio. 

In May, these despicable Neo-Nazis showed up at a drag brunch in Columbus carrying flags emblazoned with swastikas. Little else is known about those comprising their ranks that day because hateful hordes were mostly adorned in sunglasses and ski masks concealing their identities, adding to their menace. 

We do know that the founder of Blood Tribe, former U.S. Marine Christopher Pohlhaus, only founded the group last year and has already attracted supporters across the country, particularly in the heart of Postindustrial America. 

Pohlhaus has also established a training center in Maine for his group, which provides weapons training and who knows what else for those disaffected, misguided Americans seeking some semblance of race-based revenge for all manner of grievances, both real and imagined. 

As I pulled into Youngstown, Ohio, I thanked Jeff for his time and insights but told him I had to jump off our call. Ironically enough, I was just pulling into a parking lot of a Jewish deli in Youngstown to meet my in-laws for lunch. 

Over my bagel and lox, I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation and the rage that has infected so many in our region. 

And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since, even though it pains me to do so, and even more to write about it.  

But it’s something none of us can afford to ignore, lest the hate that has already infected so many continues to spread.