In the shadows of Canada’s political landscape, a narrative has emerged portraying white nationalist “active clubs” as a ticking time bomb of “extreme violence.” Fueled by a leaked government report and amplified by high-profile journalists, this story has ignited public fear and calls for action against groups blending fitness with far-right ideology. But a deep dive by Wiretap Media reveals a different picture: one of selective framing, foreign data masquerading as domestic threats, and a web of taxpayer-funded NGOs potentially weaponizing anti-hate efforts to target political dissent. Drawing on public records, court documents, and expert critiques, this investigation uncovers how the Canadian government may be complicit in suppressing grassroots movements under the guise of public safety, raising profound questions about democracy, accountability, and the politicization of extremism.
The CBC Report and Its Reliance on American Data
CBC News broke the story on March 3, 2026, with an investigative piece headlined “White nationalist fight clubs pose risk for ‘extreme violence,’ warns government report.” The article drew from a leaked violence prevention brief by Public Safety Canada’s Canada Centre for Community Engagement and Prevention of Violence, dated December 2025. The document paints active clubs as a decentralized network promoting hate against Jews, racialized people, Muslims, 2SLGBTQIA+ individuals, and others, with activities geared toward a “race war.”
But a close examination reveals the report’s foundation is shaky at best. It claims Canada hosts over 30 local chapters—more than 15% of the nearly 200 global ones—making it a disproportionate hub. Yet, the evidence for “extreme violence” is overwhelmingly drawn from U.S. and foreign cases, not Canadian soil. For instance, it cites five murders linked to the Atomwaffen Division (AWD), a U.S.-based neo-Nazi group responsible for killings in Florida and Virginia between 2017 and 2018. Three Canadians arrested in 2023 for AWD-related activities (organizing, propaganda) are mentioned as also tied to active clubs, but no crimes are directly attributed to the clubs.
“It cherry-picks data by selecting foreign violence while omitting the absence of Canadian incidents, skewing the narrative—broader data from CSIS shows far-right incidents dominate in rhetoric but lag in actual attacks compared to other ideologies.”
Other international examples include a 2025 Swedish sentencing for racially motivated assaults and an Australian member’s prison term for riot organization. A 1993 case involving Canadian Vinland Hammerskins convicted of murder in Texas is dusted off as historical context, despite predating active clubs by decades. These anecdotes illustrate potential risks but fail to substantiate a Canadian crisis.
The report’s fallacies are glaring. It falls prey to guilt by association, conflating active clubs with AWD through shared members while ignoring that the arrests were for AWD offenses, not club activities, creating an illusion of direct threat without causal links. It appeals to fear with phrases like “violence may not be immediate, it is imminent,” stoking alarm despite admitting “most Active Club representatives have not been directly linked to coordinated attacks,” amplifying rhetoric over reality. It cherry-picks data by selecting foreign violence while omitting the absence of Canadian incidents, skewing the narrative—broader data from CSIS shows far-right incidents dominate in rhetoric but lag in actual attacks compared to other ideologies. Finally, labeled as based on “open-source, unclassified information,” it lacks primary citations like court records or RCMP files, making independent verification impossible.
This mirrors methodologies in earlier reports, such as Barbara Perry’s 2015 “Right-Wing Extremism in Canada,” which relied on U.S. frameworks and media clippings to estimate 82-101 groups without robust proof, leading to hasty generalizations.
Rachel Gilmore’s Selective Framing and Fear-Mongering
On the same day the CBC report dropped, Rachel Gilmore unveiled her own investigative piece in The Tyee, headlined “How a White Nationalist Club Thought It Found Safe Haven in a Montreal Gym.” Building directly on the Public Safety brief, Gilmore zeroed in on the Frontenac Active Club, revealing how the group had been using a local gym for training sessions and propaganda shoots. She didn’t stop at the facts; she unmasked key members, including Giulio Zardo, a former Canadian Olympian turned boxing coach, and Alex Vriend, the vice-president of Second Sons Canada. In an accompanying video that quickly went viral on X and YouTube, Gilmore dissected the report with palpable alarm, describing its contents as “pretty worrying” and “pretty freaky.” She hammered home the clubs’ alleged hatred toward a laundry list of marginalized groups—Jews, racialized people, Muslims, the 2SLGBTQIA+ community, and others—while spotlighting Canada’s “disproportionate” presence in the global network.
Gilmore’s reporting, however, is a masterclass in selective framing, carefully curating details to escalate public anxiety. She conveniently glosses over the report’s own caveats, such as its admission that most active club members haven’t been tied to any coordinated attacks. Instead, she dials up the rhetoric on “street violence” and “combat training for violent confrontation,” painting a picture of inevitable bloodshed without acknowledging the lack of concrete evidence in Canada. Her language drips with urgency, deploying rhetorical flourishes like “Is there anyone that these guys don’t hate?” to broaden the scope of the threat, while on-screen overlays of cherry-picked report excerpts lend an air of authority without providing the full context.
Adding to the intrigue, Gilmore openly admitted that her investigation kicked off with a tip from a “government source,” sparking suspicions of orchestrated leaks from official channels. This collaboration raises troubling questions about potential doxxing, as her exposures had real-world fallout: Zardo lost his coaching gig at the gym, and the group scrambled to fundraise in response. Gilmore later reported that two of the men she named showed up near her location during what she described as a “private night out,” framing it as an assault on press freedom—but the encounter unfolded in a public space, where individuals are free to be present, just as Gilmore herself was. Critics argue this is a dramatic and hyperbolic perspective, especially given that Gilmore’s own reporting involved unmasking men engaged in workouts at a private facility, effectively doxxing them without evidence of criminality. Such tactics, they say, invite scrutiny and backlash, turning her journalism into a cycle of retaliation that she should be exposed for fueling.
This style of fear-mongering isn’t new for Gilmore. It echoes her previous work, such as pieces linking right-wing rhetoric to the 2025 assassination of conservative activist Charlie Kirk, where she drew connections without ironclad evidence and faced accusations of sensationalism from across the political spectrum. Or an August 2022 Global News article on anti-hate experts urging politicians to step up vetting practices, where she spotlighted Canadian Armed Forces veteran James Topp—a prominent figure in the Freedom Convoy protests—and drew associations with far-right elements. The piece’s URL explicitly labeled Topp a “white supremacist,” prompting him to serve a notice of libel against Gilmore, Global News, and its parent company Corus Entertainment. Topp’s lawyer argued the characterization was defamatory, and while the lawsuit ultimately settled out of court with Global issuing a statement of regret, it highlighted accusations of sensationalism and unsubstantiated claims that drew backlash from across the political spectrum. Just months later, in March 2023, Gilmore was laid off from Global amid what the company described as broader restructuring and cuts, though her national online politics journalist position was reposted shortly after, fueling speculation that the departure was tied to the controversy. In the end, her coverage doesn’t just inform—it inflames, transforming speculative risks into urgent crises while sidelining the nuance that might temper public outrage.
No Links to Real-World Violence – Targeting Political Ideations
Despite the hype surrounding these groups, active clubs like Second Sons Canada have no documented ties to violence in Canada. The Public Safety report itself concedes as much, acknowledging that their activities center on recruitment and training without any evidence of coordinated attacks. Experts from the Institute for Strategic Dialogue have echoed this assessment, confirming that while the ideology behind the clubs raises legitimate concerns, there are no known Canadian incidents of violence directly attributable to them.
Critics, including Alex Vriend, the vice-president of Second Sons Canada, contend that this scrutiny amounts to ideological targeting rather than a response to genuine threats. The clubs portray themselves as nationalist self-improvement networks, channeling MMA and fitness activities into community-building efforts that address broader societal dissatisfaction among members. Second Sons, in particular, extensively vets its members to ensure no one with a serious criminal background joins their ranks, as outlined on their official website, where the FAQ explicitly states that prospective members must undergo a comprehensive background check, with offenses evaluated on a case-by-case basis—disqualifying severe crimes like sexual assault or child-related convictions while allowing for lesser mistakes. Yet, neither CBC nor Rachel Gilmore appeared to consult this publicly available information or conduct basic due diligence before amplifying their fear-based assessments, opting instead to paint the groups as inherently violent without verifying such claims. With no court cases linking the clubs to crimes—the 2023 arrests cited in the report were related to the U.S.-based Atomwaffen Division, with active clubs mentioned only as loose affiliations—the focus appears to shift from actions to ideas. This approach, detractors argue, suppresses legitimate political views, such as anti-immigration stances, by labeling them as extremism, potentially violating Charter protections for freedom of expression and association. Adding fuel to these criticisms is a quote from CAHN’s Evan Balgord in a CTV News London report, where he stated that the goal of such groups is to “use violence against their political enemies,” a claim made without providing concrete proof of such intentions or actions in the Canadian context, further illustrating the pattern of unsubstantiated accusations driving the narrative.
Antifa’s History of Violence and Gilmore’s Connections
While the spotlight shines brightly on alleged threats from far-right groups like active clubs, a parallel story of documented violence from anti-fascist networks—often aligned with the very journalists and NGOs sounding the alarm—has gone largely unexamined in mainstream coverage. This disparity lays bare a glaring hypocrisy: the government, through reports like the Public Safety brief, along with figures like Rachel Gilmore and organizations such as the Canadian Anti-Hate Network (CAHN), relentlessly target groups like Second Sons Canada for their potential to incite violence, despite a lack of any real-world evidence in Canada. Yet, the actual street-level aggression—assaults, vandalism, and disruptions—stems from Antifa and similar left-wing networks, groups that Gilmore and CAHN have direct connections and collaborative relationships with, raising profound questions about selective outrage and biased narratives.
“Antifa militants disrupted the Quebec March for Life with electronic whistles, smoke bombs, and firecrackers, creating chaos amid a crowd that included children and the elderly“
Antifa-affiliated actions in Canada, stretching from 2020 to 2026, paint a picture of escalating confrontations, property damage, and assaults that stand in stark contrast to the unsubstantiated fears peddled about their ideological opponents. The pattern began emerging in October 2020 in Edmonton, where anti-racist counter-protesters, including Antifa elements, clashed with a group with far-right connections in a parking lot brawl that involved pushing, shoving, and resulted in at least one arrest. By June 2023, the tactics had intensified in Montreal, where Antifa militants disrupted the Quebec March for Life with electronic whistles, smoke bombs, and firecrackers, creating chaos amid a crowd that included children and the elderly—a move that drew criticism even from within progressive circles for its overreach. That same year, in September, Toronto saw Antifa storm a “Save Canada” anti-gender ideology protest outside a suburban school, overwhelming the smaller gathering with aggressive advances that forced police to step in, though interventions were minimal at first.
The violence ramped up further in September 2025, again in Toronto, when Antifa clashed with Canada First protesters at an anti-immigration rally just days after the assassination of conservative activist Charlie Kirk. Footage captured punches, thrown projectiles like beer cans, and assaults leading to arrests, marking a shift toward more direct physical harm. By November 2025, Montreal protests blending pro-Palestinian and anti-NATO sentiments turned destructive, with Antifa-linked participants throwing objects at police, setting vehicles ablaze, shattering windows, and prompting at least three arrests for vandalism and assaults—authorities described the perpetrators as “professional vandals” hijacking larger events.
In October 2025 there was another disturbing episode in Montreal, where Gabriel Lepage, a prominent Antifa activist employed by Canada’s Department of National Defence at the Longue-Pointe military base, was implicated in a church attack during a visit by American preacher Sean Feucht. Videos showed assaults, harassment, and incitement at the event, part of a pattern of disruptions targeting religious and pro-Hamas gatherings. The year peaked with the January 10, 2026, Toronto counter-protest against a Canada First “Stop Mass Immigration” rally, which devolved into outright mayhem: Antifa-linked demonstrators pelted police with urine-filled bags, used toilet paper and eggs as projectiles, punched an officer in the face, and individuals were arrested and found to have concealed weapons, resulting in eight to nine arrests for assault on peace officers, assault with a weapon, possession of a weapon dangerous to the public, and obstruction—all from the counter-protest side.
Rachel Gilmore’s ties to this network add a layer of complexity—and irony—to her reporting on far-right threats. In her March 3, 2026, exposé on the Frontenac Active Club, Gilmore publicly thanked Montreal Antifa for their contributions, underscoring collaborative relationships amid the group’s violent track record. This connection raises eyebrows, particularly in light of Lepage’s DND employment, which highlights potential security vulnerabilities and conflicts of interest within government ranks. As Gilmore amplifies narratives of right-wing dangers, her associations with a movement known for real-world aggression suggest a selective lens—one that overlooks left-wing extremism while fueling public division. The hypocrisy is undeniable: while Gilmore, CAHN, and government entities decry the speculative risks posed by active clubs like Second Sons—with zero proven Canadian violence—they maintain alliances with Antifa factions responsible for tangible acts of disruption and harm, exposing a double standard that undermines their credibility in the fight against extremism.
CBC’s Ignorance or Collaboration: Amplifying Politically Motivated Fear Without Due Diligence
In a glaring example of journalistic lapses that have come to define CBC’s coverage of extremism, the public broadcaster aired an interview on January 11, 2026, with Gisela McKay, presenting her as a neutral “voluntary legal observer” from the Orange Hats group amid the fallout from the violent January 10 Toronto protest. McKay, speaking to reporter Lorenda Reddekopp, downplayed the chaos—claiming she witnessed no assaults or projectile-throwing by counter-protesters and instead accusing police of “heavy-handed” tactics in handling the crowd. Yet, independent footage from journalist Caryma Sa’d tells a different story, capturing McKay not as a passive observer but as an active participant, screeching anti-police slogans like “Cops and Klan go hand in hand!” and coordinating escalations that fueled the melee, including efforts to breach barriers and heckle officers. Her history is riddled with promoting violence: from “Death to Canada” chants at prior rallies to brandishing flyers labeling opponents as “Nazis” and predicting “police brutality” to rally crowds, all documented in videos showing her long-standing ties to Toronto’s Antifa circuit, where confrontations often cross into disorder. This pattern reached a fever pitch just days after the September 10, 2025, assassination of conservative activist Charlie Kirk, when McKay was captured on video at a September 13 rally promoting violence, reportedly saying “take one to the neck” while screaming “fuck you fascist” at opponents, further inciting the crowd in a moment that underscored her role in escalating tensions rather than observing them.
CBC’s failure to vet McKay—overlooking her partisan background and connections to violent groups—exemplifies poor journalistic practices that breach the broadcaster’s own standards for accuracy, fairness, and impartiality. By platforming her without disclosing these red flags, CBC effectively laundered a biased narrative, allowing McKay to gaslight viewers about events where her own network faced arrests for assaults and weapons possession. This isn’t an isolated slip; it reflects a repeated pattern at CBC of amplifying fear-based reporting from government-funded NGOs like the Canadian Anti-Hate Network (CAHN) without rigorous due diligence or proof. During the 2022 Freedom Convoy, CBC trusted CAHN as “experts,” regurgitating unverified intel—such as exaggerated claims of an “undemocratic overthrow” or a misattributed antisemitic flyer—that drummed up public hysteria and contributed to the invocation of the Emergencies Act. Now, in the active clubs saga, CBC parrots CAHN’s alarmist assessments and the Public Safety report’s speculative threats, spreading what appears to be a politically motivated attack on right-wing groups without demanding evidence of Canadian violence or scrutinizing the foreign data skew. As a state broadcaster funded by taxpayers, CBC’s role in this echo chamber—whether through ignorance or unwitting collaboration—not only erodes trust but also enables the suppression of dissenting views, all under the guise of balanced reporting.
Evan Balgord’s Paid Protest Plea: Is It a Real Counter-Movement or Government Theatre?
Evan Balgord, the executive director of the Canadian Anti-Hate Network (CAHN), took center stage before the Standing Senate Committee on Human Rights on October 31, 2022, during a study on Islamophobia in Canada. In his testimony, he traced the evolution of the far-right movement back to its anti-Muslim roots in 2016, weaving a narrative that connected it to broader phenomena like the Yellow Vests protests, anti-lockdown demonstrations, and the 2022 Freedom Convoy occupation of Ottawa. Labeling the far-right as an “anti-democratic movement” laced with racist elements, Balgord didn’t mince words about the solution: He called for substantial government funding to build a “pro-democracy, inclusive movement” capable of protecting vulnerable groups from this rising tide. Criticizing existing anti-hate programs as too passive and research-focused—lacking the “aggressive” edge needed to confront the threat—he emphasized that “movements can only beat movements,” urging Ottawa to invest in a counter-force that could match the far-right’s organizational prowess, complete with pundits, streamers, and the capacity to mobilize en masse.
The hypocrisy embedded in Balgord’s plea is impossible to ignore. On one hand, he readily acknowledges the far-right’s growth as a grassroots phenomenon, driven by organic discontent and online communities that have ballooned without state backing. Yet, in the same breath, he advocates for taxpayer dollars to artificially engineer an opposing “movement”—a top-down construct reliant on government subsidies rather than genuine public buy-in. This approach fundamentally inverts democratic principles: Authentic social movements, by definition, thrive on voluntary participation, shared convictions, and bottom-up momentum, not institutional handouts that could skew agendas toward the funder’s priorities. Balgord’s vision risks creating a state-sponsored echo chamber, where dissent is stifled under the banner of “pro-democracy,” all while branding organic opposition as inherently threatening. It’s a classic case of projection—accusing adversaries of anti-democratic tendencies while proposing mechanisms that could undermine free expression and association.
Expanding on this, one can’t help but speculate whether such a funded “counter-movement” would represent a genuine opposition at all, or merely paid theater designed to simulate resistance and justify further crackdowns. With organizations like CAHN already receiving over $900,000 in federal grants since 2020—ostensibly for monitoring and education—there’s no transparent mechanism to track where the money truly flows once it’s disbursed. Audits may come back “clean,” but limited oversight from departments like Canadian Heritage means funds could theoretically trickle into activism, counter-protests, or even alliances with groups like Antifa, as hinted in a 2022 court ruling that found CAHN assisting such networks. Without mandatory public breakdowns of expenditures or independent audits beyond basic compliance, it’s impossible to know for sure if these resources are fueling real grassroots efforts or staging spectacles to amplify perceived threats. This opacity not only breeds suspicion but also erodes public trust, turning anti-hate initiatives into potential tools for political maneuvering rather than impartial safeguards.
A Manufactured Narrative or Legitimate Threat?
As this investigation draws to a close, the threads connecting infiltration tactics, circular evidence loops, and questionable government collaborations weave a troubling tapestry that leaves readers with profound questions: Are these studies on active clubs truly legitimate assessments of public safety risks, or do they represent yet another iteration of a well-worn tactic designed to manufacture crises for political gain? The Public Safety report, amplified by CBC and Rachel Gilmore, relies on speculative warnings and foreign anecdotes, but the absence of verifiable Canadian violence raises doubts about its foundations. Could the data underpinning it be compromised by the very methods employed by anti-hate figures like Richard Warman and Kurt Phillips?
Warman, a pioneering human rights lawyer in the fight against neo-Nazis, has long been criticized for his “maximum disruption” strategies, which included creating fake profiles—such as “Pogue Mahone”—to infiltrate online forums like Stormfront. By posting under aliases, he elicited hate speech to build cases for human rights complaints, an approach deemed legal by tribunals but decried as provocation by critics who argue it borders on entrapment, potentially inflating evidence through manufactured interactions. Similarly, Kurt Phillips, a CAHN board member and researcher, faces accusations from former white supremacist informant Elisa Hategan of adopting this playbook: allegedly using personas like “Anya,” a fabricated Russian model, to lure far-right figures into sharing compromising details, which were then paraded as “trophies” via screenshots. Hategan, in her detailed affidavits and public threads, contends these methods not only manipulate targets but could artificially escalate perceived threats in reports like the one on active clubs. If such infiltration—provocative posting in private chats or groups—forms the backbone of “open-source” intel, it casts a shadow over the data’s reliability, suggesting numbers and narratives might be padded by the investigators themselves. And with many CAHN followers potentially employing similar online tactics, the echo chamber expands: What portion of the far-right’s online activity is genuine grassroots expression versus reactions stoked by hidden agitators?
This leads to the hallmark of CAHN’s operations: circular evidence that drums up fear without independent verification from governing bodies. The organization generates unverified intel—often from these shadowy monitoring efforts—which is then fed to media outlets like CBC and Gilmore, who amplify it back as fact, creating self-reinforcing loops of panic. We’ve seen this playbook before: During the 2022 Freedom Convoy, CAHN disseminated a misattributed antisemitic flyer and exaggerated claims of an “undemocratic overthrow,” hype that CBC regurgitated without scrutiny, contributing to the Emergencies Act invocation. Similarly, Diagolon was branded a “neo-fascist militia” by CAHN despite an RCMP assessment finding no criminal or national security threat. In the active clubs saga, the pattern repeats: Speculative risks become urgent crises, with no demand for proof of Canadian violence. Was Gilmore’s “government source” even real, or a convenient shield for coordinated narrative-building? Her admission of the tip, which kick-started unmaskings leading to job losses and harassment, invites skepticism—especially given the fallout, like vandalism against exposed individuals. If the source exists, it skirts criminality under the Privacy Act by potentially enabling doxxing without evidence of wrongdoing; if not, it further erodes trust in her reporting.
These elements converge to paint a picture not of a genuine counter to extremism, but of government-orchestrated theater, where tax-funded NGOs like CAHN serve as proxies for suppressing political enemies. Through grants exceeding $900,000, the state empowers selective targeting, politicizing hate monitoring while ignoring violence from allied networks like Antifa. In the end, this appears less like a defense of democracy and more like an assault on it—stifling dissent, eroding civil liberties, and dividing Canadians under the banner of safety. As taxpayers foot the bill for unaccountable agendas, one must ask: Who is the real threat here?