The Seed of Wrath – Europe’s Lost Generation

A report on the radicalization of youth between algorithms and fear

The Concert

July 2025. Under the Croatian summer sky, music thunders over a crowd that stretches to the horizon. Half a million people. Arms raised high. From a hundred thousand throats it roars: “Za dom spremni!” – For our fatherland, we are ready.

On stage stands Marko Perković, stage name Thompson. He raises his fist. The salute of the fascist Ustaše, banned yet omnipresent, echoes through the night. The president later distances himself in a brief statement. In November 2013, shortly after the country joined the EU, soccer player Josip Šimunić shouted “Za dom” after a match, to which the fans responded in chorus “Spremni” – the traditional fascist call of the Ustaše movement. Šimunić was subsequently disqualified and fined 24,000 kunas (around 4,400 US dollars).

In 2020, however, a court acquitted singer Marko Perković, who had used the salute in one of his songs. The verdict caused widespread outrage but did not set a legal precedent. Officially, the Ustaše salute remains prohibited. Remarkably, in 2024 even the mayor of Dubrovnik publicly shouted the slogan from a stage. Despite massive criticism, he declared that he was not ashamed of his words – “Za dom spremni” was part of the military symbolism of the 1990s. This incident also had no consequences. The European Commission refers to national jurisdiction. No one intervenes.

This is Europe in the year 2025.

The Prophet

Madrid, spring 2025. In front of the Moroccan embassy, two hundred people gather. They wear black. Their banners show crossed swords, old symbols of the Falange. A young woman with dark hair takes the megaphone.

“Death to the invaders!” shouts Isabel Peralta. Her voice cuts through the noise of the city. “This is not migration - this is an invasion!”

She is twenty-three years old. Weeks later she stands trial. One year in prison for incitement to hatred. She quotes Goebbels in her closing statement: “There will be people who will try to follow our path, and they will be persecuted just as we were. But in the end we will triumph, because what is good and true always prevails in this world.” The press calls her the “muse of the Falangists.” She publicly defends Hitler. At the German border she is stopped, in her luggage: a copy of Mein Kampf and a swastika flag. Germany bans her entry for life.

Isabel Peralta was spokeswoman for Bastión Frontal - Frontal Bastion. The group emerged in 2020, in the midst of the pandemic, born of isolation and anger. They operated exclusively online: xenophobic memes, conspiracy theories, dark prophecies about the downfall of Spain. On X and Instagram they gathered over twenty thousand followers. Then they were banned. They moved to Telegram, where no one bothered them. They quickly found their enemy image: “menas” - unaccompanied underage migrants. Children without parents who had come across the sea. The group claimed they cost millions, threatened women, destroyed the nation.

Peralta was eighteen when she became the figurehead of Bastión Frontal. Her closest associate, Rodrigo Miguélez, was nineteen. Around a hundred young people joined, most between fifteen and twenty-five. On the streets they remained insignificant. Their largest demonstration counted three hundred participants. In 2022 the group disbanded due to lack of money and activists. But Peralta continued. On Telegram. On TikTok. In interviews.

After the collapse of the earlier structures, Isabel Peralta remained a central figure in the Spanish neo-Nazi scene. In Spain, the organization Núcleo Nacional now presents itself outwardly as a cultural and sports association. In fact, it offers young people physical training - but with a clear ideological imprint. Recruitment takes place in hand-to-hand combat and self-defense courses. The group is led by Isabel Peralta - together with Enrique Lemus and Iván Rico. Lemus is considered a veteran of the extreme right and is networked throughout Europe; Rico, in turn, appears exclusively masked and has so far remained anonymous to the public.

The trainers openly describe their exercises as preparation for the “defense of the nation.” Portraits of Adolf Hitler hang in their headquarters, and they make no secret of their convictions on social media either. On Telegram, Núcleo Nacional spreads videos depicting migrants and left-wing activists as enemies. Some clips openly call for the “active defense of the streets” and “resistance against hostile elements.” Núcleo Nacional is currently opening new branches in several cities and running an aggressive social media campaign. According to police, however, the number of active members is still below 300. Security authorities describe the organization as paramilitary in structure. The breeding ground for this movement is well known: economic insecurity. Spain has one of the highest youth unemployment rates in Europe and, with an average age of 30.4 years at moving out of the parental home, the second-highest in Europe - only Croatia, Greece, and Slovakia fare worse.

Spain is a country of contrasts. Officially the economy is booming - four times faster than the EU average. But youth unemployment remains among the highest in Europe. Young people live with their parents until thirty. In some cities, rent consumes more than ninety percent of income. Most work in precarious conditions. While the figures rise, life remains hard. Into this void steps the far-right party Vox. It promises cheap housing, jobs, deportations. Party leader Santiago Abascal presents himself on TikTok as a defender of Spanish identity. Among eighteen to twenty-five-year-olds, Vox is the most popular party - 17.4 percent approval. The young glorify the Franco era. Back then, they tell themselves, there was order. Back then everyone had work. It is a lie. But lies have legs.

The Shadow Fighters

Germany, 2024. In a suburb, a new group emerged. They call themselves Jung & Stark. Their logo shows a stylized lion. They recruit fourteen-year-olds. Many are still students. Jung & Stark was founded in 2024 and was already known after one year, attracting police attention. The organization operates on a franchise principle - a decentralized model with dozens of small cells connected through messenger apps. There is no central leadership that can easily be banned.

Their main enemies are not migrants. They are queer people. They organize counterdemonstrations at Pride events, shout homophobic slogans, and film themselves doing so. Every action becomes online content, every appearance a building block of digital propaganda. Although Jung & Stark and its sister group Deutsche Jugend Voran (DJV) have so far not been able to seriously disrupt any events, that is not a failure. Each of their actions becomes an exercise in digital mobilization, each appearance generates reach, likes, resonance.

Parallel to this, Deutsche Jugend Voran - DJV - is forming. Martial arts, paramilitary symbolism, hard rhetoric. In April 2025, the twenty-four-year-old leader is sentenced to three years in prison. He had seriously injured a journalist. To identify accomplices, the police allowed him to remain at large for two months after the verdict - without result.

The Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution warns of the increasing radicalization of young men. According to authorities, these groups are highly anonymous, difficult to monitor, and increasingly willing to resort to violence. In 2024, 37,835 right-wing extremist crimes were recorded in Germany - more than one hundred per day. The number of right-wing extremists classified as prone to violence exceeded 15,000. The scene is currently reorganizing. After the Junge Alternative - the youth organization of the AfD - was classified as right-wing extremist and dissolved in March 2025, new structures are emerging. Former functionaries are founding associations with harmless-sounding names, cultural and sports clubs, communities for “German values,” in which political indoctrination and physical hardening merge.

Up until its dissolution, Junge Alternative counted 16 state associations and around 2,500 members. It maintained close contacts with other far-right groups, recruited publicly, participated in street protests, and spread xenophobic propaganda. It was long considered more radical than the parent party itself - and was banned for precisely that reason. But shortly thereafter, the AfD began building a new youth organization, this time officially within the party structure.

In Germany, the rightward shift, or rather the right-conservative transformation, continues. One reason lies in sprawling debates that often bypass the real problems - such as the monthly loss of around 10,000 jobs and the declining competitiveness of key industries. Paradoxically, the “cheap is cool” mentality has also contributed to this development: decades of price pressure, wage dumping, and the drive for ever cheaper products have deepened social inequalities and undermined trust in fair economic structures.

In May 2025, the Office for the Protection of the Constitution also classified the AfD itself as a right-wing extremist organization. This allows intelligence services to monitor it covertly and to recruit informants - without the party losing its right to political activity. The AfD was not banned by a court but classified by the intelligence agency. A party ban would still have to be decided by the Federal Constitutional Court. The AfD tests the boundaries of what can be said. Its officials shift the discourse, speak of a “cult of guilt” and demand that Germany “must stop apologizing for the past.” In doing so, they not only relativize history, they undermine the culture of remembrance.

Germany today has only about six million people over the age of eighty - those who experienced the war themselves. Collective memory no longer depends on family stories but on media images. This decoupling of experience and narrative opens space for revisionism - and for the idea that one may be proud again. Nevertheless, the majority of young people remain optimistic and trust the institutions. But according to studies, about half - especially in eastern Germany - are dissatisfied and disillusioned. This group is considered particularly susceptible to populism.

Economic insecurity meets social alienation. The Shell Youth Study 2024 paints a contradictory picture: two thirds of young people condemn the Russian war of aggression, two thirds support NATO. But only half support military aid for Ukraine. In eastern Germany these values are even lower. On the Gaza war, the generation is divided: one third supports Germany’s position on Israel’s side, one third rejects it, one quarter is undecided. Over eighty percent fear a war in Europe. Just as many worry about poverty and economic instability.

And yet: the majority as a whole remains optimistic. Trusts the state. Shows tolerance. A little over 50% believe that Germany offers them fair opportunities. Germany remains among the countries with the highest approval of same-sex marriage worldwide. Rejection toward minorities remains low - according to surveys, 18% express negative views about Syrians, 14% about Turks, and 14% about homosexuals. This discrepancy - optimism and fear, trust and disorientation - is the gap into which far-right groups drive their wedges.

The Conquerors

France has banned more than forty far-right organizations since 2017. The scene still lives on. According to the French Ministry of the Interior, a total of 46 far-right groups have been dissolved since 2017 - six of them in 2024 and 2025. The exact number of new formations is unknown, as French neo-Nazis frequently change their names, split, or merge without ever officially registering. Cells form around sports clubs, martial arts studios, bars, and student work groups. Perhaps the only neo-Nazi organization with its own headquarters is Tenesoun - with fewer than a hundred members but high media visibility.

In Aix-en-Provence, Tenesoun operates a cultural center. Boxing club, bar, lecture hall, even a garden. Officially they are an ecological community. They speak of localism, sustainability, attachment to homeland. Their emblem shows a beaver - a symbol of diligence and community. Behind the façade: nationalism, ethnic purity, “ecological” racism. In 2022, members were involved in an attack on a left-wing activist. Nevertheless, the Ministry of the Interior has not yet ordered its dissolution - such a step requires clear evidence, which apparently is lacking.

Politically, they benefit from the success of the Rassemblement National. Party leader Jordan Bardella is thirty years old and a TikTok star. Two million followers. More than half a million first-time voters supported his list in 2024. The RN achieved a “historic” result in the European elections: 31 percent of the vote, 30 out of 81 seats.

At the same time, the Reconquête! party of Éric Zemmour is losing influence - after internal power struggles and legal controversies over his statements about migrants. In the 2024 European elections, it reached only 5.5 percent and five seats; shortly thereafter, the faction split. The “Bardella generation” is no longer a fringe. It is mainstream. Experts warn that the electoral success of the far right emboldens radical groups - others see it as a symptom of social exhaustion. So far, no one has found a remedy.

France’s right is winning culturally long before it governs.

The Heirs

Rome, 2008. In a squatted building in the Esquilino district, activists raise a black flag. It reads: CasaPound Italia. Named after Ezra Pound, the fascist poet. Founded by Gianluca Iannone, who in the 1970s was active in the Terza Posizione scene - a neo-fascist organization that carried out bombings. CasaPound openly venerates Mussolini. They occupy apartments, distribute food, help families. They present themselves as a social movement. Behind it lies a clear ideological core: fascism as spiritual renewal, as a third way between capitalism and communism. The group operates over one hundred fifty local chapters throughout Italy. Martial arts studios, media projects such as Radio Bandiera Nera, youth organizations. Blocco Studentesco calls for a “national education system” and the abolition of private schools. The ideology is hybrid. Fascist, social, pop-cultural. They refer to Julius Evola and Giovanni Gentile but also quote leftist revolutionaries. They promote “hip fascism” - music, fashion, tattoos, social media.

CasaPound presents itself as a helpful community: they distribute food, plant trees, help during natural disasters. This staging serves image cultivation - and recruitment. It attracts young people who feel social injustice but end up in the wrong hands. At the same time, criminal proceedings for bodily harm, robbery, and fascist propaganda are accumulating. Violence is part of their self-image. Street fights, attacks on journalists, paramilitary training. The ideal is the “epic warrior”: disciplined, pain-resistant, heroic. Members beat each other with belts in initiation rituals to prove their resilience. Internationally, CasaPound is networked: with the Greek Golden Dawn, the Ukrainian Azov regiment, Russian ultranationalists around Alexander Dugin. They admire Putin’s Russia as a spiritual ally. Their ideas revolve around ethnic purity, culture, identity. Without using the word “race.” They call it “ethnopluralism”: each people for itself.

2018, Macerata. A CasaPound supporter named Luca Traini shoots six Black people. His name later appears on the weapon of Christchurch attacker Brenton Tarrant. More than fifteen years after its founding, CasaPound is deeply rooted in Italy’s subculture. Media presence. International networking. Its influence extends far beyond party lines: into youth milieus, pop culture, online forums. The “fascism of the third millennium” is not a fringe phenomenon. It is an attempt to repeat history - disguised as revolt.

But Italy’s scene does not end here. In June 2024, an investigation into Gioventù Nazionale - the youth organization of Giorgia Meloni’s party Fratelli d’Italia - revealed that activists there openly performed the “Roman salute” and mocked politicians of Jewish descent. The scandal led to resignations and a nationwide debate about the proximity between the government and the far-right youth. The Italian constitution is clear on this point: “The reconstitution of a dissolved fascist party is prohibited.” But the law is rarely applied - only three times since 1952. For comparison: France has banned more than forty far-right groups in recent years.

In Italy, many of these organizations disguise themselves as cultural or educational associations. CasaPound remains the most visible - with an estimated six thousand members and more than one hundred fifty cells. But in its shadow, more dangerous networks are emerging online. Especially on Telegram, where groups like the Werwolf Division operate - named after the Nazi underground organization of the last days of the war.

In December 2024, police arrested twelve people, searched apartments in several cities, and seized weapons and Nazi symbols. Investigators accuse the suspects of planning attacks - including one on Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni. The group had organized itself via Telegram, spreading propaganda there and discussing armed resistance. Meloni herself tries to distance herself from the totalitarian currents in her party. She emphasizes that there is “no place for nostalgia for the regimes of the 20th century.” And yet the shadows of the past repeatedly catch up with her - her earlier praise of Mussolini, the symbolism, the rhetoric. Under her government, proceedings for fascist gestures have increased for the first time. The “Roman salute” is once again punishable by law.

The Machine

Behind all this stands an infrastructure that carries no flags and delivers no speeches. It works quietly, precisely, tirelessly. Social media are the backbone of this new right.

On TikTok, Instagram, Telegram, X, right-wing narratives spread in the language of youth culture: clips, memes, sounds, ironic videos. Far-right content is algorithmically favored because it triggers emotions - outrage, fear, pride. Studies show that TikTok’s recommendation algorithm leads to political extremes within minutes. Those interested in “fatherland,” “culture,” “men’s rights,” or “border protection” soon receive content from right-wing echo chambers. What begins as a viral motif ends as a worldview.

The study (pnas.org) shows that Twitter algorithms amplify political content to different degrees. In six out of seven countries examined - including the United States, the United Kingdom, France, Spain, Canada, and Japan - posts by right-wing parties were algorithmically distributed significantly more than those of their left-wing counterparts. Only in Germany was the difference between the SPD and CDU/CSU statistically insignificant.The figures for 2025 are likely to change that significantly.

Within the parties, the amplification of individual politicians varies greatly: some profiles reach many times their normal range, others gain almost none. Overall, however, the analysis proves that right-wing parties on average benefit more from the recommendation algorithm than left-wing ones.

Far-right groups use this deliberately. They disguise themselves as fitness coaches, gamers, lifestyle bloggers. Behind the hashtag #TradLife - “traditional life” - lurk nationalist, anti-feminist, homophobic messages. The narrative: the world is in decline. Men must become strong to save it.

Telegram serves as a refuge. TikTok as a recruitment platform. Instagram as a showcase. The roles are distributed, the aesthetics unified. But TikTok is only the visible part. Facebook, X, and YouTube remain central amplifiers because they combine network effects with emotional reinforcement. In 2021, whistleblower Frances Haugen testified before the U.S. Senate: Facebook’s algorithms “harm children, divide societies, and weaken democracies.” The company knows the dangers but prefers profit over responsibility.

Social networks systematically rely on engagement - on interaction. Content that provokes outrage is algorithmically rewarded because it generates reactions. Troll farms, right-wing influencers, political actors use this deliberately. Experiments show the mechanism. The game “Fakey,” developed by U.S. researchers, simulates social media feeds: when users see likes and shares before evaluating content, they share misinformation more often. Visible popularity reduces skepticism.

The “wisdom of the crowd” no longer works online - because there are no independent sources, only interconnected digital bunkers. People imitate the reactions of others. Algorithms amplify the most visible ones. Thus arises a feedback loop of emotion and disinformation. A large-scale study on X with fifty-eight million users in seven countries showed in 2023: right-wing parties and media content are significantly more amplified by algorithmic personalization than left-wing ones. In six of seven countries - the U.S., France, Spain, Canada, the U.K., Japan - conservative parties measurably benefited from algorithmic reach. Only in Germany was the effect statistically insignificant.

Researchers analyzed 6.2 million news articles and millions of tweets. The result: content from the political right was shown more often, reached larger audiences, achieved up to two hundred percent higher visibility than on chronologically sorted feeds. The explanation lies in the system: engagement-based models reward intensity, not quality. Those who polarize more strongly gain visibility. Social media are not neutral mirrors of social opinion. They are amplifiers of emotional extremes. What used to be flyers is now filters. What used to be called propaganda is now content.

The Tension Field

Europe’s youth stands between two worlds. On one side: economic insecurity, fear of the future, disorientation. Precarious jobs, unaffordable rents, the feeling of being excluded from the prosperity promise of their parents. On the other: a digital ecosystem that turns fear into anger, anger into identity, identity into movement. The numbers speak different languages. The majority of the young generation remains democratic, tolerant, optimistic. They trust institutions. They believe in opportunity.

But in the fissures of this society, structures are growing that are not loud but persistent. Small groups that, through social networks, exert an influence far beyond their real size. Their decentralized structure makes them difficult to grasp - and politically dangerous. They speak the language of their generation. They understand the mechanics of the platforms. They know how to trigger emotions, shape identities, set narratives. And they have time. Because while parliaments debate bans, courts pass judgments, and news sites produce headlines, the next wave is already running on millions of screens. A clip. A propaganda image. A comment.

Algorithms sort. Emotions intensify. Echo chambers grow. And somewhere, in a suburb, in a teenager’s room, on a smartphone, a fifteen-year-old will feel for the first time that he is understood. That is the moment when it all begins.