One of Us

One of Us Plot Summary

Introduction

On a warm summer day in July 2011, Norway experienced its darkest hour since World War II. Anders Behring Breivik, a seemingly ordinary Norwegian man, committed one of the most horrific acts of terrorism in modern European history. The attack, which claimed 77 lives, shocked not only Norway but the entire world. How could such extreme violence emerge from one of the most peaceful and prosperous countries on earth? The answer lies in the complex journey of a man who gradually descended into a world of extremist ideology, isolation, and hatred. Breivik's transformation from an unremarkable child to a mass murderer reveals disturbing truths about radicalization in the digital age. His story illuminates the dangerous intersection of personal grievances, political extremism, and the echo chambers of online communities. Through examining his childhood wounds, his search for identity, and his gradual radicalization, we gain crucial insights into the psychology of extremism and the societal conditions that can foster it. Understanding this journey is not about sympathizing with a terrorist, but about recognizing warning signs and preventing similar tragedies in the future.

Chapter 1: Childhood Wounds: The Seeds of Alienation

Anders Behring Breivik was born in Oslo, Norway, on February 13, 1979, to Jens Breivik, a diplomat, and Wenche Behring, a nurse. His parents divorced when he was just one year old, and he was primarily raised by his mother in the affluent west end of Oslo. From the beginning, his home life was marked by instability and emotional turbulence. When Anders was four, his mother sought help from social services, reporting that she was struggling with her "aggressive, hyperactive boy who constantly clashed with others." Child welfare services documented concerning patterns in the Breivik household. Professionals observed that Wenche alternated between emotionally smothering her son and rejecting him, creating a confusing attachment pattern. She would sometimes invite him to sleep in her bed well beyond an appropriate age, yet also express hostility toward him, telling social workers she wished he would die. This inconsistent parenting left deep psychological scars on the developing child, who learned to suppress his emotions and developed an unhealthy need for control. By the time Anders was fifteen, his relationship with his father had completely broken down. After a series of minor legal troubles related to graffiti, Jens Breivik made it clear he wanted nothing more to do with his son. This final rejection by his father, combined with his mother's unstable parenting, reinforced Anders' sense of abandonment and contributed to his growing resentment toward authority figures and established institutions. At school, Anders was neither particularly troubled nor outstanding. Classmates remember him as somewhat withdrawn but not entirely antisocial. He developed an interest in graffiti during his teenage years, adopting the tag name "Morg" and participating in Oslo's underground tagging scene. This brief period represented one of the few times in his life when he felt part of a community, though even here, he remained somewhat on the periphery. His involvement ended when he broke an unwritten rule by writing over another tagger's work, resulting in his rejection from this subculture as well. By his late teens, Anders had developed a façade of normalcy that masked his inner turmoil. He cultivated an appearance of success and confidence, dressing in expensive clothes and boasting about business ventures and political connections that were largely exaggerated or entirely fictional. This gap between his projected image and his reality would continue to widen as he entered adulthood, creating a psychological dissonance that fueled his growing alienation from mainstream society.

Chapter 2: Seeking Identity: From Social Rejection to Online Refuge

In his early twenties, Anders Breivik struggled to find his place in the world. After dropping out of high school, he attempted various entrepreneurial ventures, including selling fake diplomas online and telemarketing. While these businesses occasionally brought him some financial success, they failed to provide the sense of purpose and belonging he desperately craved. His professional life was characterized by grandiose plans that rarely materialized, leaving him increasingly frustrated and resentful of a society he believed had denied him his rightful success. Around 2006, Breivik experienced what many close to him described as a significant shift in behavior. He moved back into his mother's apartment and began spending extraordinary amounts of time playing online video games, particularly "World of Warcraft." In this virtual realm, he created an avatar named "Justiciar Andersnordic," a character that embodied strength, purpose, and recognition—all elements missing from his real life. For nearly two years, he played obsessively, sometimes for up to 16 hours a day, retreating almost entirely from physical social interactions. Within the game, Breivik found a meritocracy where success came through skill and dedication. He rose to become the leader of his guild, earning the title "Justitiarius" and commanding respect from fellow players. Online, he was well-liked and described as "a tonic to depression" by those who played with him. The structured environment of the game provided clear goals and rewards, offering the recognition and sense of achievement that eluded him in real life. As his gaming obsession gradually waned, Breivik began spending more time on anti-Islamic and far-right websites and forums. These online spaces offered him a new form of community and a framework to understand his personal failures. Rather than accepting responsibility for his shortcomings, he found comfort in ideologies that blamed immigrants, Muslims, "cultural Marxists," and feminists for what he perceived as the decline of European civilization and his own lack of success. The internet provided him with an echo chamber that reinforced and radicalized his views. In 2009, Breivik briefly joined the Progress Party, a right-wing political party in Norway, but quickly became disillusioned with democratic politics as a means of achieving the radical change he desired. He found the party too moderate and unwilling to take the drastic measures he believed necessary to "save" European culture. When he attempted to secure a nomination for the Oslo City Council elections and was passed over, his bitterness deepened. This disappointment with conventional politics marked a critical turning point in his radicalization, as he began to consider more extreme methods of advancing his ideological agenda. Throughout this period, Breivik maintained few close relationships. Former friends described him as increasingly isolated and obsessed with his political views. When they would meet, he would deliver long monologues about the "Islamisation of Europe" and how "the Labour Party has ruined our country." Unable to engage in normal conversation, he gradually lost the few social connections he had maintained, retreating further into his online world of extremist ideology and fantasy.

Chapter 3: Ideological Radicalization: Building a Worldview of Hate

Breivik's ideological journey led him deep into the world of counter-jihadist and far-right extremism. He consumed content from anti-Islamic bloggers like "Fjordman" and far-right theorists who promoted the idea that Europe was being systematically colonized by Muslims with the complicity of liberal elites. These ideas resonated with his personal grievances and provided a grand narrative that elevated his sense of importance. He wasn't just a failed businessman; he was a warrior in an existential struggle for civilization itself. Central to Breivik's worldview was the concept of "cultural Marxism," a conspiracy theory claiming that Western Marxists were deliberately undermining traditional European values through multiculturalism, feminism, and political correctness. He believed that the Norwegian Labour Party, with its progressive policies on immigration and multiculturalism, was complicit in this alleged plot to destroy European identity. This framework allowed him to transform his personal resentments into a political mission, casting himself as a heroic defender of Western civilization against internal "traitors." Breivik was particularly drawn to the "Eurabia" theory, popularized by writer Bat Ye'or, which suggested that European leaders had deliberately opened their doors to Muslim immigration as part of a secret pact with Arab nations. He embraced the idea that feminism had weakened European men, making them unable to defend their civilization against the supposed Islamic threat. "The man of today is expected to be a touchy-feely subspecies who bows to the radical feminist agenda," he complained in his writings, revealing how his personal insecurities about masculinity had become intertwined with his political ideology. By 2009, Breivik had begun writing what would eventually become a 1,500-page manifesto titled "2083: A European Declaration of Independence." The document combined plagiarized content from various far-right sources with his own writings, outlining his worldview and plans for violent resistance. The manifesto revealed a mind that had constructed an elaborate alternate reality, one in which he was not a lonely, failed man but a pioneering "commander" in a network of like-minded warriors. Though investigators would later determine that this network existed only in his imagination, for Breivik, it provided crucial validation and purpose. Breivik's radicalization was accelerated by his consumption of violent media and his fascination with military tactics and weaponry. He studied the methods of other terrorists, particularly Islamic extremists, whom he paradoxically both hated and admired for their willingness to die for their cause. He began to see violence not merely as a tactic but as a purifying force and a form of communication that would awaken Europeans to the "threat" he perceived. In his distorted thinking, mass murder became justifiable as a "lesser barbarity" that would prevent the greater evil of European cultural extinction. Throughout this period of ideological development, Breivik maintained a façade of normalcy to those around him. His mother noticed his increasing preoccupation with politics and anti-Islamic rhetoric but had no idea of the violent plans forming in his mind. This ability to compartmentalize—to plan mass murder while maintaining ordinary social interactions—speaks to the profound disconnection between his inner world and external reality. By 2010, his worldview had crystallized into a coherent, if deeply disturbed, ideology that not only justified violence but demanded it as a moral imperative.

Chapter 4: The Virtual Knight: Creating an Alternate Reality

In the narrow confines of his bedroom in his mother's apartment, Anders Breivik constructed an elaborate fantasy identity that would eventually supersede his actual life. He began to see himself as a "Justiciar Knight Commander" of an organization called the Knights Templar, which he claimed had been founded at a meeting in London in 2002. In reality, this organization existed only in his imagination, but it provided him with the sense of belonging and importance he had always craved. Breivik's manifesto detailed elaborate initiation rituals for his fictional order, including a system of ranks and honors based on how many "traitors" one had killed. He created a uniform for himself, complete with medals and insignia he had designed, and took photographs wearing it for inclusion in his manifesto. These images revealed a man who had fully embraced a fantasy identity, one that transformed him from an unremarkable failure into a heroic warrior fighting for civilization itself. The internet played a crucial role in enabling this alternate reality. Online, Breivik could present himself however he wished, free from the constraints of his actual social position and achievements. He created multiple social media accounts and forum profiles, through which he attempted to connect with prominent anti-Islamic writers and activists. Though these efforts largely failed to gain him the recognition he sought, they reinforced his sense of participation in a global movement. The digital world provided him with the audience and validation that the real world had denied him. Particularly disturbing was how Breivik prepared himself psychologically for violence. He developed techniques to dehumanize his intended victims, referring to them as "cultural Marxists" and "traitors" rather than as individuals. He used meditation techniques derived from Buddhist practices, ironically perverted to suppress empathy rather than cultivate it. In his diary, he wrote about the need to overcome natural human resistance to killing, describing it as a barrier that, once broken, would allow him to operate with mechanical efficiency. Breivik's mother witnessed his withdrawal but could not comprehend its significance. "He never goes out, just sits in his room on that internet thing," she complained to relatives. When friends called or visited, she would tell them he didn't want visitors. She knew he was working on some kind of book, which he described as historical and "a bit above my head," but had no idea it was a manifesto justifying mass murder. The gap between his outward appearance of normalcy and his inner fantasy world had grown so wide that even those closest to him could not bridge it. By early 2011, the line between Breivik's fantasy world and his actual plans had blurred completely. He began referring to himself in the third person in his diary entries, as if narrating the actions of a character rather than recording his own life. He created a 12-minute video summarizing his manifesto, featuring images of himself in his knight's uniform interspersed with anti-Islamic imagery. The video, which he would upload to YouTube shortly before his attack, represented the culmination of his self-mythologizing—a trailer for the violent act that would transform his fantasy into horrific reality.

Chapter 5: Meticulous Preparation: Planning the Unthinkable

In early 2010, Breivik's radicalization crossed the threshold from extremist thought to action planning. He rented a remote farm in Åsta, about 140 kilometers north of Oslo, which provided the isolation he needed to prepare his attack without arousing suspicion. He registered a company called "Breivik Geofarm" and claimed he would be focusing on agricultural work, specifically growing vegetables, when in reality, the farm served as his operational base for acquiring materials and constructing his bomb. With methodical precision, Breivik began acquiring the components necessary for his planned attack. He legally purchased a Ruger Mini-14 semi-automatic rifle and a Glock pistol, obtaining permits by joining a shooting club and maintaining a clean record. For the bomb materials, he established a fake agricultural company to purchase large quantities of fertilizer without raising alarms. He ordered six tons of fertilizer, claiming it was for his farming operation, and began the painstaking process of creating the explosive device that would target the government quarter in Oslo. The financial aspects of his planning revealed both foresight and desperation. Breivik had saved approximately $300,000 from his earlier business ventures and cryptocurrency investments to fund his operation. He lived frugally on the farm, directing all his resources toward his deadly project. As his funds dwindled, he took out multiple credit cards with no intention of repaying the debt, viewing his financial ruin as inconsequential given his expectation of either death or imprisonment following the attack. The process of bomb-making proved more difficult than Breivik had anticipated. In his diary, he documented his frustrations with failed experiments and the physical toll of the work. He described how the aluminum powder covered everything in a fine dust, how he worried about inhaling toxic chemicals, and how the work left him exhausted. At one point, he nearly abandoned the plan when he couldn't get a chemical reaction to work properly. His persistence, however, was unwavering—when one approach failed, he researched alternatives until he found a solution. Throughout this preparation period, Breivik maintained a façade of normalcy. He occasionally visited his mother, took breaks to watch television series, and even maintained some minimal social contacts. When neighbors or acquaintances inquired about his activities, he had ready explanations. His ability to compartmentalize—to separate his planning for mass murder from ordinary interactions—was remarkable and disturbing. In his diary entries from this period, he described taking steroids to build physical strength and using meditation techniques to prepare himself psychologically for killing. By July 2011, after months of painstaking work, Breivik had manufactured a 950-kilogram fertilizer bomb. He had acquired a van to transport it, prepared a getaway vehicle, and finalized his tactical plans. He had created a police uniform complete with patches and insignia, which would later allow him to approach his victims without raising immediate alarm. Every detail was calculated, including his appearance on the day of the attack. He had written in his manifesto about the importance of looking one's best in photographs, advising potential "knights" to spend time on tanning beds, work out hard, and have professional pictures taken. The farm, which had served its purpose as both laboratory and training ground, would soon be abandoned as he moved to execute the most devastating terrorist attack in Norway's peacetime history.

Chapter 6: July 22: Norway's Darkest Day

On the morning of July 22, 2011, Anders Behring Breivik dressed in casual clothes and prepared to execute the plan he had been developing for years. He loaded his homemade bomb into a rented Volkswagen Crafter van and drove it to central Oslo. At approximately 3:25 PM, he parked the vehicle outside the government quarter housing the Prime Minister's office and several ministries. After activating the timer, he calmly walked away, changed into a police uniform in a pre-positioned getaway vehicle, and drove toward his second target. The bomb detonated with devastating force, killing eight people and injuring over 200 others. The explosion shattered windows for blocks around, reduced the entrance of the main government building to rubble, and sent a shock wave of fear through the normally peaceful Norwegian capital. As emergency services rushed to the scene and confusion reigned, Breivik was already en route to Utøya Island, about 40 kilometers northwest of Oslo, where the Workers' Youth League (AUF), the youth division of the Norwegian Labour Party, was holding its annual summer camp. Dressed in his police uniform, Breivik arrived at the mainland dock and claimed he was a security officer sent to conduct a routine check following the Oslo bombing. The camp's ferry, MS Thorbjørn, transported him to the island, where approximately 600 young people between the ages of 14 and 25 were gathered. Upon landing, he was met by the camp's security guard and the island's administrator, Monica Bøsei. After a brief conversation, he shot them both at close range—the first victims in what would become a methodical massacre. For the next 72 minutes, Breivik moved systematically around the small island, hunting down terrified youth who were hiding or attempting to swim to safety in the cold waters of the Tyrifjord lake. He called out to those in hiding, sometimes pretending to be a police officer there to help them, only to open fire when they revealed themselves. He moved calmly throughout the island, executing victims with precision, often shooting them multiple times to ensure they were dead. Throughout the attack, he remained chillingly calm and focused, stopping occasionally to drink water he had brought with him. The police response was catastrophically slow and disorganized. Despite receiving the first emergency calls at 5:24 PM, the first specialized police unit did not reach the island until 6:27 PM, by which time Breivik had already killed 69 people, mostly teenagers and young adults. When officers finally confronted him, he surrendered without resistance, according to his plan to use his trial as a platform for his ideology. The scenes on Utøya were beyond horrific. Bodies lay scattered across the island, many of them young people who had been shot multiple times at close range. Survivors were traumatized, having witnessed their friends murdered or having played dead among corpses to survive. First responders described the island as a war zone, with the added horror that the victims were primarily children and teenagers who had gathered for what should have been a joyful summer experience. As night fell on July 22, Norway was in shock. The combined death toll of 77 made it the deadliest attack in the country since World War II.

Chapter 7: Aftermath: Justice, Memory, and National Resilience

The trial of Anders Behring Breivik began on April 16, 2012, in Oslo District Court. From the first day, it was clear that Breivik intended to use the proceedings as a platform for his extremist views. As he entered the courtroom, he made a far-right salute, setting the tone for what would follow. The central question before the court was not whether Breivik had committed the attacks—he freely admitted his actions—but whether he was legally sane and therefore criminally responsible. The trial featured two conflicting psychiatric assessments. The first, completed before the trial, concluded that Breivik suffered from paranoid schizophrenia and was psychotic during the attacks. This diagnosis sparked controversy in Norway, with many victims and their families objecting to the possibility that Breivik might avoid prison and instead be committed to psychiatric care. A second assessment, ordered by the court, found him to be sane but suffering from narcissistic personality disorder. This fundamental disagreement turned the trial into a detailed examination of Breivik's mental state and motivations. Throughout the proceedings, Breivik remained largely unmoved by the testimony of survivors and the families of victims. He listened impassively as they described the horror he had inflicted, showing no remorse or emotional reaction. When given the opportunity to speak, he used his time to expound on his manifesto and justify his actions as "necessary" to combat multiculturalism and Islam in Europe. His testimony revealed a mind that had constructed an elaborate alternate reality in which he was a hero rather than a mass murderer. On August 24, 2012, the court delivered its verdict. Breivik was found sane and criminally responsible for all 77 murders. He was sentenced to 21 years of "preventive detention," Norway's maximum sentence, which can be extended indefinitely as long as he is deemed a threat to society. Upon hearing the verdict, Breivik smiled, having achieved his goal of being treated as a political terrorist rather than a mentally ill individual. In the wake of the attacks, Norway faced the difficult task of healing. The country's response was remarkable for its restraint and dignity. Prime Minister Jens Stoltenberg declared that Norway would respond with "more democracy, more openness, and more humanity, but never naivety." More than 200,000 people gathered in Oslo for a "rose march," carrying flowers as symbols of love and solidarity. Rather than allowing fear to erode fundamental values, Norway chose to strengthen the very democratic principles Breivik had attacked. Perhaps the most powerful aspect of Norway's response was how it reclaimed the narrative from the perpetrator. While Breivik had sought to spark a revolution against multiculturalism, his actions instead united Norwegians across political and cultural divides. The young people of the AUF, though devastated by their losses, eventually returned to Utøya, transforming it from a site of horror into a place of remembrance and continued political engagement. Their message has consistently been one of love overcoming hate—a powerful repudiation of everything Breivik stood for and a testament to the resilience of democratic values when tested by their most extreme opponents.

Summary

Anders Behring Breivik's journey from an alienated child to a mass murderer illuminates the dangerous convergence of personal grievances, ideological extremism, and the echo chambers of the digital age. His transformation was not sudden but occurred through a gradual process of radicalization, fueled by online communities that validated and amplified his hatreds. What makes his case particularly disturbing is how he maintained a façade of normalcy while methodically planning mass murder, revealing the challenges of identifying potential extremists before they act. The enduring lesson of Breivik's case is that democratic societies must remain vigilant against extremism without abandoning their core values. Norway's response—choosing openness over fear, justice over vengeance, and community over division—offers a powerful alternative to the cycle of violence and repression that terrorists seek to provoke. For those concerned with preventing similar tragedies, Breivik's case underscores the importance of addressing both the psychological and ideological dimensions of extremism, recognizing warning signs of radicalization, and creating off-ramps for those heading down destructive paths. In the final analysis, the strongest bulwark against such hatred is not found in security measures alone, but in the cultivation of inclusive communities where alienation and extremism struggle to take root.

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Åsne Seierstad

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