Pt 2
The men in Hawaiian shirts
Ashley Dorelus,
a freelance photographer, was live streaming nearby on the night of the Oakland shooting, and has since travelled to protests across the US filming a documentary. She says she has often seen strange people in Hawaiian shirts attempting to rile up crowds.
"They'll come up to you and whisper stuff that doesn't make sense," she recalls. "There was one woman telling us she was from Russia. Talk about unsolicited information – we didn't ask to know that. You're trying to make us react. We know what they want: destruction, chaos; they want to see it burn."
Sometimes, she says, they pause in one place trying to start a new chant or change the mood; if nothing happens, they move elsewhere and try again. "They're over here screaming 'black lives matter' and then they're over there bumping into teenagers and trying to incite riots."
A boogaloo adherent appears to support George Floyd protesters in Detroit on May 30 Credit: Rebecca Cook/Reuters
Why Hawaiian shirts? As often happens in internet culture, the already-ludicrous "boogaloo" has since evolved, via puns and half-rhymes, into a kaleidoscope of codewords and symbols. So boogaloo becomes "big Luau" – a traditional Hawiian party, often featuring roast pig – or "big igloo", which has led to the adoption of igloos as a kind of heraldic emblem (Steven Carrillo's body armour had a igloo patch).
This playful propaganda – or "memetic warfare", as some boogalites only half-jokingly call it – is one key difference between boogaloo and the older militia movement, whose ideas it often recycles.
DeCook argues that boogaloo often merely echoes the philosophy that drove Gulf War veteran Timothy McVeigh to murder 168 people in the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing. "If McVeigh was alive today he'd definitely be wearing a Hawaiian shirt," she concludes.
On the other hand, Jones says boogalites have "set themselves apart" through their use of social media to recruit younger Americans, whom established groups – now mostly comprising baby boomers and ageing Gen-Xers – had so far failed to entice.
"There's quite a bit of evidence that the boogaloo movement is some people's first experience with political extremism," he says.
Armed protesters in boogaloo garb rest by the Michigan state capitol building during an anti-lockdown protest on May 20 Credit: Jeff Kowalsky/AFP
'This isn't the dark corners of the internet'
All this has made it harder for tech firms to monitor and identify boogaloo believers. Facebook is currently tracking more than 50 derivative terms of "boogaloo", and has had to train a special group of content moderators to keep up.
Though its powerful AI systems find and wipe out millions of examples of terrorist propaganda every month, it has so far been unable to build a boogaloo-hunting equivalent.
For boogaloo groups, this is probably the point. Beeson says they tend to present a "coded, acceptable narrative" on mainstream social networks, redirecting any "strategic or sensitive" subjects to an encrypted or anonymous alternative.
An example of the subculture's semi-satirical patches, seen at a protest in North Carolina on May 29 Credit: Logan Cyrus/AFP/Getty
The result has been a successful digital marketing strategy in which big sites are used to "groom or recruit people to the cause" with what Beeson calls "adjacent content" – jokes and memes that avoid open propaganda while still reflecting boogaloo ideology.
One study found that in the 30 days after America's first lockdowns, 36,117 people joined boogaloo-related Facebook groups, doubling their total membership.
In some cases, social media algorithms actually helped out by
automatically recommending boogaloo content to potential followers, using the same targeting and profiling systems that have made them a fortune in advertising money. Though Facebook has now stopped such recommendations, DeCook believes the damage may have been done.
"Facebook, Instagram and Twitter have all been really slow," she says. "This isn't the dark corners of the internet. Your 11-year-old is pretty well exposed to white supremacist content via YouTube and TikTok. I think a lot of people don't want to confront that reality, but it's the case."
A dangerous powderkeg
With no leaders and little ideological agreement, the future of boogaloo is volatile. Jones says the community is "having a bit of an identity crisis": some members are die-hard racists, while others claim Black Lives Matter as natural allies. A few have declared themselves socialists, though this is probably misdirection.
“If there was ever a time for bois to stand in solidarity with ALL free men and women in this country, it is now," one Facebook group administrator wrote after Floyd's death. Others appeared to celebrate the idea of business owners shooting black protesters.
This very disunity may be boogaloo's most dangerous quality. Jones argues that its mix of "shifting and competing ideologies", coupled with its very real interest in violence, creates especially fertile soil for spontaneous terrorism and recruitment by more organised groups.
Even as America careens towards a highly-charged presidential election, boogaloo could fizzle out. But Jones believes it could also be co-opted by its most extreme elements and marshalled towards coordinated bloodshed.
DeCook further warns that the subculture includes "a high number" of military veterans or even active service members, and that many come from affluent families with funds to spare. Boogaloo-sympathetic YouTubers, she says, often have very professional recording equipment.
And Joan Donovan, director of Harvard University's media research unit, fears that some coverage of boogaloo has come "dangerously close to validating this small group". Its surreal trappings are part of a now-common far-Right tactic of using the absurd or unexpected to attract media attention and inject their symbols into the mainstream – which is part of what they mean by memetic warfare.
Meanwhile, boogaloo believers continue to make themselves known at protests, and to plot real violence. Some activists fear an outburst of violence on July 4, when a large number of marches are planned to coincide with America's independence day.
Ashley Dorelus, for one, is sceptical of boogaloo's help. "If you're here for Black Lives Matter, just put down your boogaloo," she says. "Don't bring your s--- to the fight." She does, however, agree on one point: "As much as people don't realise, the civil war is happening right now. It's happening right now."