How Helly Hansen became the uniform of choice for neo-Nazis

Miller-Idriss says historically, national security experts and scholars have dismissed things like fashion and music as “tangential to extremist ideas and ideology, radicalisation or mobilisation to violence”.

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But her research has found clothing is central to forging a cohesive identity, asserting power and evading the law.

“The brands and the logos help young men feel connected to others they spot wearing the same brand. Youth I’ve interviewed explained they then feel like maybe they are not alone or the only ones who think this way. And the brands can act like an entry ticket to underground meetings or events,” she says.

“The messaging, meanwhile, is both a broadcasting of identity, like an actual wearable billboard, but also a secret that gives them a sense of power because not everyone knows what it means.”

“These groups are subcultures,” says Dr Josh Roose, a political sociologist at Deakin University.

“They’re small, reasonably self-contained, and they seek to differentiate themselves from other groups. This might be a hate-filled, violent subculture, but nonetheless, they seek to make themselves attractive to a wider audience through the adoption of and appropriation of fashion.”

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For neo-Nazis specifically, Roose says the goal is to attract young men to their cause, through wearing mainstream or fashionable brands.

Dr Liam Gillespie, a lecturer in criminology at the University of Melbourne, adds the choice of black clothing, often with allusions to the military, creates an aesthetic of masculinity and also credibility.

“The same way the military will have a uniform, and you have all these different insignia that you attach to yourself. That gives a sense of not only cohesion but of order and hierarchy and a chain of command.”

Gillespie says being a Norwegian brand may also play into the choice of Helly Hansen.

“These groups, they really thrive on creating their own narratives and their own codes,” he says.

“[Like] it’s connected to Norse mythology. They can make all these little layers of meaning.”

Skirting the law

In January 2024, the federal government passed into law its Counterterrorism Legislation Amendment Bill, making it illegal to publicly display Nazi symbols such as the swastika. Some states, like Victoria, already had similar laws in place, but this brought state laws under one national framework.

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To circumvent bans like this, neo-Nazi groups in Australia and abroad have learned to adapt. The numbers “14” and “88″, for example, are common codes used to adorn clothing. Fourteen refers to the 14-word white supremacist slogan “We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children” and “88″ refers to “Heil Hitler”, since H is the eighth letter of the alphabet.

Others opt for brands with names or labels that might allude to these codes.

Gillespie says the slippery, coded nature of these fashion choices is part of the point.

“It’s like saying, ‘OK, you’re targeting us with specific legislation, like banning certain symbols, and firstly, that shows our importance. We’re worth targeting. But despite the fact you try to do this, we can counteract you so easily with all these different measures that have plausible deniability’.

“It’s a power play in multiple ways.”

Miller-Idriss adds that the ever-evolving nature of fashion is a way for members to blend in.

“There is always another way to game-play, modify symbols and get around legal bans or dress codes in schools, stadiums and pubs,” she says.

“But in other cases, youth are clear that they like the fact they can just deny the meaning of the symbol, so an image of a fox with the words ‘Desert Fox’, which is the nickname of the North African Nazi troop leader [Erwin Rommel], could be seen by someone on the street as just a cute image of a fox, as one young man explained to me. The plausible deniability lets them wear the clothing in a lot of places they might otherwise not.”

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‘Affiliation by accident’

So what happens when a brand like Helly Hansen finds itself aligned with extremist groups?

Dr Andrew Hughes, a lecturer in marketing at the Australian National University, calls the phenomenon “affiliation by accident”.

He gives the example of Toyota, whose four-wheel-drive utes have been the vehicle of choice for certain militant groups over the years – including Islamic State and the Taliban – due to their reputation for reliability.

“Toyota used to brand their cars with red Toyota symbols on their Hiluxes. And so we’d see these images of people with guns and weapons, with Toyota in the picture,” he says.

“If you walk past a Toyota car now, their branding is very subtle and it’s very much blended in with the paint or the design of the car.”

Another strategy brands can use is simply withdrawing their product from sale, says Hughes, which Burberry did in the early 2000s when their nova check scarves became associated with football hooliganism.

Or, Hughes suggests, “they could change the logo for men’s products, so it becomes unattractive for any right-wing groups to use. They could go, ‘right, we’re not selling black items anymore’. Or they might have a co-brand on their jacket with a group or a movement who stands up against fascism.”

In 2025, when consumers are more likely to shop in line with their values, cases like Helly Hansen can be particularly fraught, says Hughes.

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“It reinforces the perspective that consumers put a lot of value on what brands represent in a holistic way, not just a functional or a status way. Status is now seeping into social movements and causes,” he says.

Because of this, he doesn’t think silence is enough.

“Brands can’t do and say nothing. They have to do something about it, so they’re seen to be on the front foot and not just pretending it’s not going on.”

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