Norway killings: British 'mentor' says Anders Behring Breivik was not a lone wolf

The Norwegian man who has confessed to killing 77 people was not a "lone wolf," a British far-right activist thought to be the gunman's "mentor" said after being interviewed by Norwegian police.

Paul Ray, a blogger and former member of the English Defence League, told Norway's NTB news agency that police were "very interested" in British far-right cells mentioned by the attacker, Anders Behring Breivik.

"I don't believe Breivik is a lone wolf ... he is part of a larger movement which has its own agenda," Mr Ray said, without going into detail. "They (the police) were very interested in the British cells," added Ray. "They asked me if I was (head of) a cell."

In a statement he released shortly before embarking on his July 22 killing spree, Behring Breivik had spoken of the existence of secret cells that he said came under a new order of Knights Templar. The police were not available to comment.

Mr Ray, who lives in Malta, came to Norway voluntarily to speak to police investigating the twin attacks in Oslo and a nearby island. He is widely considered to be the unnamed "mentor" mentioned by the 32-year-old Behring Breivik in the 1,500-page manifesto he posted online shortly before carrying out the attacks.

Describing himself as a crusader at war against multiculturalism and Islam, Behring Breivik explained in the document that he once had "a relatively close relationship" with an Englishman he gave the pseudonym "Richard", "who became my mentor."

Mr Ray, who heads the "Knights Templar" movement and runs a "Richard the Lionhearted" blog, has said he recognised himself in the Norwegian right-wing extremist's description. Asked in an interview with Norway's NRK television station if he had any contact with Behring Breivik, including online, Mr Ray said "never". He has called the July 22 attacks "pure evil".

Behring Breivik has confessed to setting off a bomb outside government offices in Oslo killing eight people, before going on a shooting rampage on the nearby island of Utoeya, where the ruling Labour Party's youth wing was hosting a summer camp, killing 69 others, many of them teenagers. He is currently being held in solitary confinement at a high-security prison near Oslo, and has claimed he acted alone.

Telegraph

Thanks to Zaahid for the heads-up

Reclassify the EDL

Prime Minister David Cameron has promised to learn any lessons of the appalling events in Norway to ensure that this country is "more secure against horrific outrageous like this".

He could make a start by ordering the Home Office to reclassify the English Defence League. Despite the violence and racial hatred whipped up by this street gang the authorities refuse to label the group as "far-right extremists". As a result the police do not monitor the group like they do dozens of Muslim organisations and take little interest in its activities. One police officer who has responsibility for monitoring extremists recently told us that the EDL was only an issue when it had a knock-on effect on Islamist extremist groups.

With evidence pointing to Anders Breivik's admiration for the EDL and an increasingly militant tone being taken by EDL units across Britain, surely it is time for the authorities finally to take this threat seriously.

I'll be writing more about this shortly but let's hope it doesn't take an atrocity for the authorities finally to act against the EDL.

Thanks to Nick Lowles at HOPE not Hate/Searchlight

What Motivates Lone Wolves?

Various media are currently reporting that a 'lone wolf' perpetrator of terrorism in Norway, who has so far killed upwards of 90 people (mainly youths), MAY be linked to far right/neo-Nazi/fundamentalist Christian groups, and hold anti-Muslim views. The attacks have left more casualties than 7/7.

I've just published an alleged list of internet posts by the shooter, Anders Behring Breivik. These reveal he was particularly concerned about the impact of immigration, multiculturalism and Muslims/Islam. They also suggest he held a high view of the anti-Islam English Defence League (EDL) and was influenced by a broader narrative across Europe that has been adopted by the far right. Rather than focus on the importance of race and ethnicity, this narrative frames opposition to minority groups such as Muslims along the lines of culture.

Seen from one perspective, the attacks by alone wolf are surprising. In recent years, the attention of security services across Europe has focused heavily on preventing al-Qaeda (or 'AQ') inspired acts of terrorism. In fact, I was told only recently by a member of the security services in Britain that the threat of violence from ultra right-wing groups is only minor when set against their AQ and Northern Irish counterparts. Perhaps for these reasons, many early commentators were quick to associate the Oslo attacks with this form of extremism.

Seen from another perspective, however, for several reasons the attacks in Oslo are not that surprising. First, both Norway and Sweden have had a relatively active neo-Nazi scene for years. Indeed, this is not the first example of right-wing violence in Oslo. Second, recent years have seen growing support across Scandinavia for right-wing movements and their ideas, most noticeably in Sweden where the anti-immigrant and anti-Muslim Sweden Democrats (SD) recently entered the national parliament. Third, this trend of rising support for the right-wing has been taking place across the continent more generally, arguably producing a more receptive climate for right-wing ideas and activists. And fourth, with much attention focusing on alternative forms of extremism, it might well be the case that increased space was created for the lesser studied and understood right-wing groups.

In fact, analysts have long predicted that members of more ultra-violent right-wing groups may resort to 'direct action' methods. In our study of extremism that was published last year, we warned of the dangers of 'cumulative extremism', namely when one form of extremism (e.g. far right) responds violently to the rise of another form of extremism (e.g. violent Islamism). An example might include an activist bombing a Mosque in response to the 'threat' posed by growing Muslim populations, and then AQ-inspired groups retaliating. In Britain, we have not seen this process since Northern Ireland.

I also only recently finished reviewing an academic study of al-Qaeda (AQ) inspired terrorism that predicted how the 'next wave' of terrorism in Europe will come not from Islamists but ultra-violent far right groups, partly as a backlash against immigration, rising ethno-cultural diversity and AQ-inspired terrorism. The attacks in Oslo have a clear political motivation, being directed toward youth representatives of the political mainstream. It may turn out to be the case that the perpetrator did not feel that the main parties were responding adequately to broader threats.

Nor is the threat from lone wolves restricted to Norway and Scandinavia. Two years ago, anti-terrorism officers in Britain warned of the growing threat from lone wolf activists. This was underscored by the case of Robert Cottage who was convicted after being found stockpiling chemical explosives. And before him the attack by David Copeland - 'the London Nailbomber' - who sought to trigger race war by targeting members of Bengali and homosexual communities. The broader threat of lone wolf terror is also underscored by the fact that, prior to 9/11, the most destructive attack on American soil was perpetrated by Timothy McVeigh, a right-wing activist, not Islamists.

What potential motives might be at work?

I spent almost four years interviewing activists on the far right, many of whom had no direct association with violence. However, within the far right there is unquestionably a culture of violence that is reflected in several core narratives: the belief that members of the in-group are embroiled in a 'survivalist struggle' and that their ethnic or religious group is facing threat of extinction because of immigration and rising diversity; the belief in the need to take urgent and radical action to defend the group from these wider threats; and a sense of moral obligation to take this action on behalf of their children and grandchildren. These motives provide followers with compelling reasons not only to join fundamentalist groups, but also to take direct action on their behalf.

Based on this research, I suspect that when Breivik's motivations become clear we will be hearing a lot about threats in Norwegian society: the threat of multiculturalism, the threat posed by the presence and growth of Muslim communities, and the need to take radical action against the inefficacious mainstream parties (particularly the Labour Party). Like the activists who I interviewed, the posts left by Breivik also reveal an obsession with demographic statistics: the growth of minority communities and differential birth rates across different groups. This is often used as a justification for taking urgent, and radical action.

Clearly, other motives might be at work, for example a conspiratorial outlook that traces changes like immigration or the emergence of Islamist terror to mysterious elite groups or 'corrupt' mainstream parties. This might lead perpetrators to target mainstream parties (or their youth wings) and international organizations like the United Nations. Foremost, however, it is a belief that the wider community (whether ethnic, religious, etc.) is under threat that leads some individuals toward the far right. The source of this perceived threat may vary: AQ terror, settled Muslim communities, immigration or supranational organizations (e.g. the EU).

Many thanks to Matthew Goodwin for permission to republish this article

The war children born to Nazi fathers in a sinister eugenics scheme speak out

They were the blue-eyed blonds born into a sinister SS scheme to further the Aryan race. But the defeat of the Nazis left Norway's 'Lebensborn' facing the vengeance of an entire nation. Here, five former war children talk for the first time about their ordeal – and their fight for compensation

They stare blankly into the lens, their lips tellingly pursed. All are the Norwegian subjects of a terrifying Nazi experiment. All were involved in one of the most shocking trials of eugenics the world has ever known. All are Lebensborn – the "spring of life". And all are here to tell their stories for the first time.

The Lebensborn Society was born on 12 December 1935, the brainchild of Heinrich Himmler, Hitler's right-hand man and head of the SS. He had designed a project to promote an "Aryan future" for the Third Reich and turn around a declining birth rate in Germany. People were given incentives to have more children in the Fatherland as well as in occupied countries, most importantly in Scandinavia, where the Nordic gene – and its blond-haired, blue-eyed progeny – was considered classically Aryan.

But after the conflict had ended, many of the Norwegians born into the programme suffered. In an attempt to distance itself from the occupying forces, the Norwegian government publicly vilified the children born by Norwegian mothers and Nazi fathers. Many of those children subsequently experienced intense bullying, and in some cases, extreme mental and physical abuse. In recent years, a Lebensborn group in Norway has been fighting what it sees as the Norwegian government's complicity in their horrific ordeal.

Now, these once-persecuted children, many of whom are in their sixties, have been brought together by British photographer Lucinda Marland, who travelled to Norway to interview them and take their portraits, with a 1940s 5x4 plate camera, reproduced exclusively here.

"The people I met described themselves as the lucky ones and maintain that hundreds of others were never able to come to terms with the prejudice and cruelty they ' suffered," says Marland. "They were incredibly humble and proud people still coming to terms with their demons; many of them would be welling up when they were talking to me."

The Lebensborn programme arrived in Norway in March 1941, six years after the scheme was started in Germany. The occupying soldiers were officially encouraged to father children with the local women. They were reassured that the Third Reich would take care of the child if they did not wish to marry the mother, or were already married. As well as paying all the costs for the birth, the Lebensborn association gave the mothers substantial child support, including money for clothes, as well as a pram or cot. It was noted at the time that only a small proportion of the German fathers wanted to marry the pregnant women and bring them back to the German Reich.

Hotels and villas were requisitioned and 10 Lebensborn homes were established from scratch. Here, more than 8,000 children were registered, and issued with a Lebensborn number and file containing their medical records.

For many of the young, impressionable Norwegian girls who had become pregnant at the hands of the invaders, it was a convenient place to give birth – well away from the disapproving eyes of their peers, with access to the best available care.

But towards the end of the war, the exiled Norwegian government – which had set up shop in London – started broadcasting ominous warnings to collaborators in Norway. One said: "We have previously issued a warning and we repeat it here of the price these women will pay for the rest of their lives: they will be held in contempt by all Norwegians for their lack of restraint."

Soon afterwards, the war ended, Himmler committed suicide and Norway's pre-war leaders returned. Norwegians cut off the hair of many of the "German whores" who had sired children with the Nazi soldiers, and they were paraded through the streets and spat at. Though the women hadn't broken any law, several thousand were arrested and many interned. A large number lost their jobs, for as little as having been seen talking to a German, and many were traumatised for life. "We will never be rid of the stigma, not until we are dead and buried," says one of the Lebensborn interviewed by Marland, Paul Hansen. "I don't want to be buried in a grave; I want my ashes to be scattered to the winds – at least then I won't be picked on any more."

The condemnation escalated. The Norwegian government tried to deport the Lebensborn to Germany but the scheme was vetoed by the Allies. In July 1945, one newspaper expressed the fear that Lebensborn boys would "bear the germ of some of those typical masculine German characteristics of which the world has now seen more than enough". A leading psychiatrist advised that a large proportion of the 8,000 (officially registered) children must be carrying bad genes and therefore would be mentally retarded; "genetically bad", he said, they "belonged in special institutions". As a result, hundreds of children were forcibly incarcerated in mental institutions. Here they were often abused, raped and their skin scrubbed until it bled. A member of the Norwegian ministry of social affairs said of them in July 1945: "To believe these children will become decent citizens is to believe rats in the cellar will become house pets." '

Through legal action, many of the children have sought compensation from the Norwegian government for its discrimination against them. A few were offered limited financial recompense. But still officials refuse to take the blame. "The government has acknowledged that several war children have been subject to harassment in society," says government lawyer Thomas Naalsund. "But it is highly difficult to say now, 50 years later, that the government was responsible for these events."

Last year, 157 of the children appealed to the European Court of Human Rights but lost on the grounds that their problems happened too long ago. "There is a hypocrisy at the heart of Norway, home of the Nobel Peace Prize, a country that prides itself on resolving conflicts around the world but refuses to acknowledge its own victims of war," says the Lebensborns' lawyer, Randi Spydevold. "I'm disappointed and embarrassed on behalf of Norway. I thought Norway was a great country, the best country for human rights; I didn't disbelieve that for one moment until I took this case."

Now, what hope that still exists among the Lebensborn is in their desire that by sharing their stories, one day an international standard will be set that will prevent future war children from being discriminated against, and enduring the atrocities that they themselves have had to live through. Their chilling tales, some of which are reproduced here, are just one small step towards that potential resolution.

Ellen Voie: 'I was locked in a dark room'

I was born in 1942 in a Lebensborn home, where I stayed until I was adopted aged two. My adoptive parents were incredibly cruel: they beat me and locked me in a small, dark room for hours. To this day I'm still afraid of the dark and have nightmares.

We lived in a small community where everyone seemed to know I was a German child and told me how awful I was. I was very disruptive; I couldn't concentrate. When I was 16 the local priest refused to confirm me because I did not have a baptism certificate. I had to go to the local authority where I found out that my parents had changed my name.

Then I went to Denmark to study. While there I worked as a nursery nurse, and fell in love with a German, but my parents disapproved and I had to return to Norway to continue studying.

A year after I returned, a friend and I were walking to the cinema when a car pulled up with some boys in it. My friend said she knew them so we got in, but the car broke down. My friend went off with one of the boys to get spare parts and left me alone with the other boy, who raped and almost killed me. A taxi driver saved my life.

I later discovered I was pregnant from the attack. I was 19 years old. My parents threw me out of the house and put me in a home, where I stayed until my son was born. My parents then insisted I give up my baby; I was only allowed to hold him for a few minutes before they took him away. But I was determined that history would not repeat itself and with the help of a social worker I got my son back.

Despite all the hardships, I got an education and my work as a social worker has helped me deal with my past. I've dedicated my adult life to helping others, children in particular. It helps me to forget my own tormented past. I now live with my husband and dogs in Oslo.

Paul Hansen: 'They classed me as a retard'

I think my mother's family put pressure on her to give me up, so I was born in a Lebensborn home in 1942 and my mother left me there.

I later learnt that after the war a government delegation came to the home to decide what to do with the 20 war children, including me, who had been left there. We were lined up and the doctor said he would take us. It turned out that he was the head of a mental institution. There was no medical prognosis behind his decision; it was just that we were war children, and therefore must be "retarded" due to our parentage. They made no effort to trace any of our family members, they just locked us up with children so sick that some were incontinent and incapable of feeding themselves. I was four years old.

By the time I was released I had lost any chance of a proper education and for the next few years I went from one home to another.

I was eventually sent to a special school for children with learning disabilities and mental illness. This was the only formal education I received. War children were segregated from the rest of the school. We were not allowed any contact with the outside community. I was then moved to a boys' home and then another mental institution, where I was finally old enough to sign myself out. The people there helped me get a job in a factory. My colleagues used to taunt me mercilessly until one day I stood up and told them what had happened to me. They never taunted me again and I stayed there for 17 years.

In 1975 I got married but my wife had a nervous breakdown and we divorced in 1977. Then I lived with someone for nearly 20 years but she died of cancer.

I now work as a cleaner and janitor at the University of Oslo and have a long-term girlfriend. As much as it hurts to talk about my past, I do so because it's important that people know what happened to us. I spent the first 20 years of my life in mental institutions just because my father was a German.

Kikki Skjermo: 'I was raped when I was 10'

I was born in 1945 near Trondheim. My mother was away a lot, finding work. It was my grandparents who brought me up and told me about my father. They provided for me, but never showed me any warmth. I felt like I lived behind a wall of silence; life was very empty and confusing.

At 10 years old I was raped by a local man, who had a deep hatred of the Germans. I didn't know him but he knew I was a German child. He told me people like me were born to be used. I didn't dare tell anyone; I stayed in bed for a week pretending I had a stomach upset.

At 15 I was granted special permission to marry my husband. It took me a couple of years to tell him about my history but he has always been a huge support and we've been married for 47 years.

Both he and my children encouraged me to trace my father, who I met for the first time when I was 42. We have a wonderful relationship and, when my daughter got married, she asked if my father could walk her down the aisle to show the world that the spell was broken.

It's taken me a long time to be able to say, it's OK, I'm a German child. It's important to speak out to help other war children who aren't as fortunate as me.

Bjorn Drivdal: 'They beat me up at school'

Growing up in Oslo, I was told my father was sent to the Eastern Front, where he died in action. But my mother would never tell me anything more about him.

I later learnt that when my mother discovered she was pregnant she tried to get an abortion, but the German authorities wouldn't let her.

I endured school until I was 15; I was always being beaten and couldn't understand why. I then went to sea, working mainly on cargo ships. On shore leave, I'd often find myself on the shadier side of town – I found it easier to be around people with something to hide.

I've been married twice and have five children. Both marriages ended in divorce; I wasn't easy to live with.

When I turned 57 I took early retirement because I couldn't concentrate and was having nightmares, and it was then that I confronted my past. I started seeing a psychologist and learnt to explore who I was.

I decided to go to Germany. I knew where my father had lived, so I went to the local newspaper, which helped me with my research. I found my father's grave and discovered he had actually died in 1974 in a car crash, not in the war as I had been led to believe. It was a devastating blow. But my trip to Germany wasn't all bad; I met my two half-sisters, who had no idea I existed, and this summer my nephew and his children are coming to visit me.

Gerd Fleischer: 'I was called a whore'

My mother and father planned to marry, but to marry an SS officer you had to prove three generations of Aryan blood. My mother's Lapp heritage meant she was not pure enough.

I was born in 1942. My father returned to Germany while my mother fell into poverty, not qualifying for any support from the state, my father or even the Lebensborn programme.

We lived a relatively untroubled life in Lapland until I went to school. One day a fellow pupil called me a "German whore"; I didn't know what this meant so I ran home and asked my mother. She told me that not everyone is open-minded.

My mother then married a former resistance fighter, who hated anything German, particularly me. Abuse and beatings soon became a regular part of my home life. At 13, I ran away.

Somehow I survived, putting myself through school. I remember being lonely, hungry and cold. The authorities knew about me but did nothing to help.

When I was 18, I left Norway and didn't return for 18 years. I worked as an au pair in England, and worked and studied in Germany. I managed to trace my father, who initially denied all knowledge of me. But when we met it was physically obvious I was his daughter. I was furious at him – even more so when he spoke ill of my mother. I successfully took him to court for the maintenance he had never paid to me.

Before returning to Norway I spent several years in Mexico, where I fostered two street children. I brought them home with me, but soon realised that Norway hadn't progressed in its attitude towards ethnic minorities. So I founded the organisation Seif [Self Help for Immigrants and Refugees] to fight for justice for all.

Independent