Jake Cassar, founder of Coast Environmental Alliance (CEA) and operator of Jake Cassar Bushcraft, represents a form of charismatic spiritual leadership that fuses bush survivalism, apocalyptic prophecy, and settler-conspiritualist ideology (Coco, 2023). He has built a public persona grounded not in Indigenous recognition or legal authority, but in perceived access to esoteric ecological knowledge and spiritual truth. His rhetoric aligns with broader conspiratorial and anti-institutional narratives, reflecting what Ferretti (2023) and Crockford (2021) describe as the merging of esoteric ecology with counter-modern worldviews.
Cassar’s strategy involves deploying fear-based narratives—impending collapse, ecological catastrophe, and government betrayal—to build emotional and ideological loyalty. His bushcraft workshops, media appearances, and public messaging present survival training as both practical education and spiritual preparation. While framed as empowering, these teachings cultivate mistrust of institutions and encourage followers to view themselves as spiritually awakened guardians of sacred land (ABC, 2016; SBS, 2023; Fetterman et al., 2019).
Unlike Indigenous land-based pedagogies rooted in relationality and cultural continuity (Aikenhead & Michell, 2011; Yunkaporta, 2020), Cassar’s approach instrumentalises Country as a settler stage for self-reliance and mythic resistance. His campaigns, such as “Save Kariong Sacred Lands” and “Save Kincumber Wetlands”, exploit Aboriginal symbolism but rely on partnerships with unverified “GuriNgai” figures lacking genealogical legitimacy (Cooke, 2025a; guringai.org, 2025). These efforts displace real Aboriginal authority and perpetuate cultural fraud.
Cassar’s appropriation of pseudoarchaeological narratives and spiritualised heritage sites functions to reframe settler claims as Indigenous-style custodianship. This tactic, noted in settler colonial scholarship, embeds settler belonging within an ahistorical spiritual cosmology while erasing Aboriginal governance (Metraux, 1953; Weiser, 1974; Watego, 2021).
The article shows that Cassar’s leadership mirrors high-control group dynamics. He positions himself as prophet, protector, and interpreter of crisis, drawing followers into a worldview where he offers both salvation and resistance. Trainings include rehearsed defensive tactics against imagined government intrusion, reinforcing the us-versus-them logic typical of cultic movements (Rondini, 2019; Anthony & Robbins, 2004; Singer, 2003).
Through this cultic structure, CEA becomes a spiritual-political enclave where belonging is constructed through ritual, emotional intensity, and conspiratorial narratives. These dynamics are further amplified through online platforms and emotionally charged visual content, where Cassar frames Aboriginal land councils such as DLALC as spiritually illegitimate and environmentally harmful (Bungaree.org, 2025; Ahmed, 2014; Kalpokas, 2018).
Cassar’s alliances with QAnon-affiliated networks such as My Place reflect ideological overlaps between doomsday prepping, anti-government sentiment, and white nationalist spiritual populism (Berghel, 2022; Gillespie, 2025). This fusion of settler masculinity, spiritual charisma, and environmental populism creates a potent form of white possessive ecology (Moreton-Robinson, 2015) that subverts Aboriginal sovereignty while appearing to defend the land.
In conclusion, Cassar’s movement represents a coercive and conspiratorial threat to Aboriginal land rights, democratic institutions, and public trust. It exploits ecological concern to promote settler resurgence, cultural misrepresentation, and emotional manipulation. Countering this threat requires coordinated, Aboriginal-led strategies that include public education, cultural verification, and policy reform. These responses must centre truth-telling, strengthen protections against cultural appropriation, and reaffirm Indigenous governance as the legitimate authority on matters of Country and ceremony.
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