The idea of “getting away from it all” has long carried romantic connotations. In extremist circles, however, the idea of retreating to the land has been repurposed into a political strategy. It’s one that offers extremist actors a range of advantages.

In the United States, the Highland Rim Project was recently announced in Kentucky. The project is a venture capital-backed “aligned community” for right-wing Christians seeking ideological separation and local political influence, marketed as a refuge from society’s “cultural insanity of the broader country.”

A similar project in Arkansas, this time specifically labelled as a “whites only” community, has recently established its second enclave and plans to build four more.

In Germany, the Reichsbürger movement rejects the legitimacy of the modern-day German state, and instead promotes an ideology associated with an attempt to storm the Bundestag, kidnap MPs and topple the state. In recent years it has quietly acquired 40 rural properties.

The movement has attempted to establish an autonomous community, a Gemeinwohldorf (common good village). Here they have sought to create parallel societies outside state authority. They have even created alternative institutions, currencies, and education systems.

Similar projects have been noted in Wales and across several Nordic countries.

These projects are not simply eccentric initiatives that can be ignored. Instead, they can serve as sites of potential ideological embedment.

The dangers of rural enclaves

While much has been said on the dangers of online echo chambers for an individual’s worldview and growing polarisation, the same process can occur offline.

Close-knit networks and insular communities, which can characterise these projects, have been shown to play a role in deep ideological entrenchment. This can mean the ideology of these communities can become deeply ingrained within its members.

These far-right initiatives are often rooted in a worldview outlining the illegitimacy of the state or the promotion of violence against the state or other identities. This means the ideological entrenchment process that can accompany these far-right rural enclaves poses an extremist challenge. They can serve to create a cohort of highly committed members whose belief system is one characterised by hate. This can also be amplified in offline echo chambers.

At the same time, rural-based extremist enclaves have the potential to diffuse beyond their specific communities into the broader environment. Surveys across democracies underscore the depth of rural disenchantment, where rural communities have often expressed a feeling of being “left behind”. They are also more likely to express concerns that government policies do not understand local realities.

As noted by academic Michele Grossman, a sense of social isolation and instances of community disengagement that can be more prevalent in rural environments can further add to the vulnerability cocktail. Extremist actors can exploit these feelings of distrust and alienation to build support. In fact, we have seen populist political movements do this many times.

Thin policing and limited services in remote areas compound these concerns. Regional officers are often spread thinly across vast distances. Programs designed to counter violent extremism, or even provide basic mental health and social support, are far less available outside metropolitan centres. This leaves rural communities with fewer buffers against dangerous ideologies.

Rural environments are also not simply backdrops for extremist retreats. They provide practical advantages that make them attractive bases of operation. Remote properties offer space for training and tactical preparation that would be impossible in more closely monitored urban areas. Large, sparsely populated properties allow extremists to train in secrecy while blending into the rhythms of rural life.

The 2020 plot to kidnap Governor Gretchen Whitmer was planned and trained for on a rural Michigan property. The Nordic Resistance Movement has set up camps that train members in violent tactics, including hand-to-hand combat and knife fighting, while embedding themselves in local rural life.

In Australia, a family with clear conspiratorial engagement used a remote Queensland property as the backdrop to conduct a political motivated attack that resulted in the deaths of three people, including two police. More recently, the rural Victorian environment has allowed Dezi Freeman to evade capture following the alleged killing of two police officers.

How can the potential danger be averted?

To meet this broader challenge, governments need to start considering the hostile potential these extremist enclaves represent and develop strategies accordingly.

Strengthening local policing and stitching it more tightly into national counter-terrorism frameworks is one starting point. Rural officers are often the first to encounter sovereign citizens in Germany, militias in the United States, or neo-Nazi networks in Scandinavia. Yet they work with thin resources, long response times, and little access to specialist support. Without bolstering their capacity, these frontlines will remain exposed.

As a sense of victimhood is strongly associated with radicalisation, equally important is the perceived injustices often felt by rural communities. When communities feel ignored or disparaged, extremist narratives take root. Policies that visibly invest in rural infrastructure, health, and digital connectivity, often key rural concerns, are not just good economics, they can strengthen and integrate rural communities.

The final issue is the geography of rural communities. Remote terrain provides concealment, opportunities to stockpile weapons, and space for training away from surveillance. Training, tactical planning, and inter-agency coordination must all account for these geographical dynamics in perpetration should violence emerge in these settings.

This article is republished from The Conversation, a nonprofit, independent news organization bringing you facts and trustworthy analysis to help you make sense of our complex world. It was written by: James Paterson, Monash University

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James Paterson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.