Prosecutors wanted to send Enrique Tarrio to federal prison for 33 years. Tarrio, the former chairman of the far-right Proud Boys group, was found guilty of seditious conspiracy earlier this year for his role in the Jan. 6 insurrection. On Tuesday afternoon, the judge weighed a variety of factors and handed down a sentence of 22 years, less than what prosecutors asked for but still the longest Jan. 6 sentence to date.
Last Thursday, Tarrio’s convicted co-conspirator, Joe Biggs, was given a sentence of 17 years. Biggs first garnered right-wing fame as a correspondent for Alex Jones’ InfoWars, before leading the Proud Boys in violent clashes across the country. Prosecutors had sought 33 years for Biggs, arguing he was a “vocal leader and influential proponent of the group’s shift toward political violence.” Fellow Jan. 6 defendant Steward Rhodes, the founder of the militia-associated Oath Keepers, earlier received a sentence of 18 years following his conviction for seditious conspiracy. On Friday, Proud Boy lieutenant Ethan Nordean also received 18 years.
Efforts to hold far-right leaders accountable are promising signs for anyone concerned about the rise of far-right street violence.
The convictions of Tarrio, Biggs, Rhodes, Nordean and others have been hailed as justice. And it’s true that efforts to hold far-right leaders accountable are promising signs for anyone concerned about the rise of far-right street violence. But the hefty sentences prosecutors asked for could have, potentially, complicated other efforts to undermine groups like the Proud Boys. Which is why the lighter (but still historically long) sentence for Tarrio and his comrades could be seen as a win, not a loss.
Backing up slightly, the high-profile Oath Keeper and Proud Boys trials elicited complicated reactions from some left-wing advocates. Prosecutors went after leaders like Tarrio — who was not at the Capitol on Jan. 6 — by arguing they used violent rioters as “tools” of a broader conspiracy. Similar approaches have been used against left-wing and antifascist activists in the past, including against demonstrators who took to the streets of D.C. during Trump’s inauguration. Right-wing media figure Andy Ngo also used similar logic in a recent civil case, where he tried to connect large numbers of activists as part of a broader conspiracy and alleged assault. (Ngo ultimately lost his claim, although he still won default judgments against several people named in the case.) For these reasons, left-wing activists are wary of any legal strategy that argues participation in a demonstration makes you an accomplice to violence, even if there isn’t evidence of your direct participation.
Another reason Tarrio’s sentence could be viewed as a win has to do with the far-right’s increasingly caustic dive into conspiracy theories, particularly claims that the entire federal apparatus has been taken over by the shadowy “deep state.” The related belief that Trump is being railroaded by politically motivated and disingenuous attacks has become far too common on the right. And even before law enforcement agencies started hunting down Jan. 6 protesters, the violence of the insurrection was being downplayed by MAGA fanatics. While conspiracy theories have always been endemic to American politics, we’re witnessing the rise of what scholar Michael Barkun calls the “superconspiracy”: a conspiratorial theory of everything. The overwhelming nature of today’s conspiracies can lead to desperation, and desperation can lead to more violence. If the political and legal system is hopelessly corrupt, this thinking goes, the only thing left to do is tear the whole thing down.
Thus, historically harsh sentences run the risk of validating and further entrenching this mindset, playing right into the hands of those who wish to paint themselves as the heroic, patriotic victims of a malevolent government. Of course, the vast denialism that exists on the far-right makes most attempts at accountability difficult. This is not a community that is likely to learn from or take responsibility for its actions. And there is always the risk that these groups could splinter into even more decentralized, and radical, far-right cells. The Proud Boys may remain a relatively decentralized version of their gang, now leaderless, or it may rebrand. But there’s no doubt the efforts of the Department of Justice have had an impact. The chances that another Jan. 6 could take place, in full public view of cameras and press, feels more unlikely than previously. Hopefully, the sentences handed down this summer will further deter the next generation of far-right activists — and not just drive them deeper underground.
Shane Burley
Shane Burley is a journalist based in Portland, Oregon. He is the author of "Fascism Today: What It Is and How to End It" (AK Press, 2017), and his work has appeared in Al Jazeera, The Baffler, Bandcamp, Truthout, Jacobin, In These Times, Full Stop and other publications. 
