A surge of tornadoes tore across a large swath of the country in April, carving a path of destruction. Over 200 tornadoes hit more than 20 states in a short span, and hurricane season is approaching.
A pattern has emerged in recent years: militias, conspiracists, and white supremacists show up in hard-hit communities offering help. They’ve been called disaster tourists — people who aim to soften their image, sow doubt in government, and build a following.
September 2024. Hurricane Helene barreled through North Carolina with forces so powerful it nearly wiped the town of Bat Cave off the map, lifting homes and toppling trees.
Sheriff Lowell Griffin described the scene: “Imagine taking a box of toothpicks and dumpin’ ’em on your kitchen counter.” He faced a daunting rescue task after days of heavy rain and the hurricane. Then outsiders, including anti-government and far-right groups, began pouring in.
“These folks that we’re talking about, they were in the minority. However that minority can create chaos. And that’s what we ran into,” Griffin said. Some outsiders tried to act as militias, “to take over, to in their minds bring some sort of self-deployed law and order to the area,” he said — some arriving armed. That diverted time and resources from real rescues.
Among those who appeared were members of the white nationalist network Active Club. Robert Rundo, who co-founded Active Club in 2020, defended disaster relief as helping “our people.” In an interview he said, “I’m a nationalist.” When asked what that meant: “It means I put my people first.” Asked whether “my people” meant white people, Rundo replied yes, and said organizations “are geared towards other ethnic groups” so “If we don’t look out for ourselves, who is?”
Rundo described Active Club as a place for young white men to work out while sharing ideology. With nearly 90 chapters, watchdogs call it one of the fastest-growing white supremacist networks in the country — antisemitic, anti-immigrant, and anti-democracy — that also holds mixed martial arts tournaments. Rundo framed it as fun: “You know, there’s fun in fascism,” he said. He acknowledged handing out flyers at relief efforts and said showing up can change opinions: “That’s the guy who came when my house was on fire and helped me out.”
Other groups, like Patriot Front, showed up in North Carolina cutting trees and handing out bread. Freddy Cruz of the Western States Center, a hate-group watchdog, said these groups primarily use disasters to build a following. “What we’re seeing is actually these groups will show up and generate a whole bunch of social media content. We’re dubbing it disaster tourism,” Cruz said. Unlike established relief organizations — veterans’ groups like Team Rubicon or religious groups like Samaritan’s Purse that coordinate with authorities and stay for a while — these outsiders often leave after creating media.
Graphika analyst John Kelly noted why disasters are attractive to extremists: “There are very few things that bring the public’s attention to focus on one thing in unison. And natural disasters is one of those.” He added that many current groups are trying to appear mainstream, leaving “triggering iconography in the closet” to appeal to a broader audience rather than marching with overtly offensive symbols.
Rundo said he avoids the extreme imagery and aims for a more wholesome, macho image to recruit young men. Other influencers have pushed similar themes online: celebrity influencer Dan Bilzerian has peddled antisemitic views and is running for Congress in Florida; Nick Fuentes has explicitly glorified Hitler to appeal to young men. These figures and tactics show how extremist ideas can seep into wider political spaces.
Members of Active Club often hide their faces when posting from disasters. Rundo, who has been a spokesman although he hadn’t always been present at disaster sites, has a criminal past: he said he had been in prison twice — once as a teen for a gang fight and another time for confrontations at rallies in 2017. He described Active Club as “ultra-nationalists, far right, fascists.” When asked whether his ultimate goal was a completely white Christian nation, he implied support for a more militant, less democratic system, criticizing democracy as a “scam.”
Disaster relief trips also create an avenue to attack government response. Videos from these groups often claim government incompetence or corruption, which can attract more outsiders. During Helene, some videos alleged that FEMA was rationing or seizing supplies, that people were still stranded, or that bodies were floating in the river — claims Sheriff Griffin said were false. Rumors even spread that the government had created the hurricane as a weapon using weather monitoring towers. FEMA rescuers had to retreat for a few days amid fears militias might come to target them.
Groups such as Veterans on Patrol and some militias arrived to organize supplies or clear houses but, according to law enforcement, sometimes created chaos and more harm than help. Sheriff Griffin said misinformation “took a bad situation and actually complicated a bad, bad situation.” He urged that anyone wanting to help should rely on official sources rather than social media.
The concern among local officials and watchdogs is that this pattern could become the new normal: extremist groups and conspiracy-driven outsiders descending on disaster zones to do short-term, highly visible work that generates social media content, while spreading misinformation, undermining trust in official responders, and recruiting new followers.
