The Death of Far Right Politics & The Republican Party

Part 1

When you smell something rotten, your instinct is to search for the source. That putrid odor wafting through American politics today has a familiar stench—one that reeks of a dark historical precedent. The parallels between today's MAGA movement and the nationalist fervor that gripped Germany in the 1930s aren't just academic observations; they're a goddamn five-alarm fire that should be setting off every historical warning bell we possess.

"Fascist politics includes many distinct strategies: the mythic past, propaganda, anti-intellectualism, unreality, hierarchy, victimhood, law and order, sexual anxiety, appeals to the heartland, and a dismantling of public welfare and unity."

As someone who's spent years watching this slow-motion trainwreck unfold, I can tell you that what we're seeing isn't some benign nationalist pride—it's the same toxic sludge that once poisoned an entire society and led to one of humanity's darkest chapters. Let me break down why these movements aren't just similar—they're fucking twins separated by nothing but time.

"The European history of the twentieth century shows us that societies can break, democracies can fall, ethics can collapse, and ordinary men can find themselves standing over death pits with guns in their hands."

The Cult of the "Glorious Past"

Walk into any MAGA rally and close your eyes. Feel the electricity of nostalgic longing crackling through the air like static. That same electrical current ran through German beer halls in the 1930s, where crowds gathered to hear promises of returning to a mythical golden age.

The Nazi Party masterfully crafted a narrative about restoring Germany to its former glory—a time before the humiliation of the Treaty of Versailles, before economic depression, before the supposed "pollution" of German culture by outside influences. Sound familiar? It should, because Donaldo Shitsburger has been playing the same fucking tune, just with different lyrics.

"Make America Great Again" isn't just a slogan; it's a time machine selling tickets to a destination that never existed. When exactly was America "great"? The 1950s, when Black Americans lived under Jim Crow? The 1920s, before women could vote? The mythical "great" America is as fictional as the "pure" Germany of Nazi propaganda—both constructed from selective memories, whitewashed history, and outright lies that taste sweet to those hungry for simplistic solutions.

In both cases, you can hear the same refrain echoing through time: things were better before. Before immigrants, before equality movements, before globalization. The soothing melody of this lie has lulled millions into a dangerous slumber, dreaming of a past that smells of home-baked apple pie rather than the reality that reeked of oppression and inequality.

Enemies Everywhere: The Paranoid Style

Touch the rhetoric of both movements and you'll feel something rough and jagged—the sharp edges of a worldview built on endless enemies and conspiracies. The surface texture is abrasive, designed to scratch at the most primal fears buried in the human psyche.

In 1930s Germany, the Nazis convinced ordinary citizens that they were under constant attack. Jews, trans and gay communities, communists, intellectuals, the press, foreign powers—all were portrayed as working in shadowy concert to undermine the German people. This wasn't just political rhetoric; it became a suffocating reality for millions who began to see threats lurking behind every corner.

Today, Trumpy McDungface and his followers have manufactured the same claustrophobic reality tunnel. The "deep state," the "fake news media," "radical leftists," immigrants, China, and those pesky queers again—all supposedly conspiring against true Americans. The enemy is simultaneously all-powerful and pathetically weak. They control everything but can be defeated by strong leadership. This contradiction wasn't accidental in Nazi Germany, and it's not accidental now—it's a feature, not a bug, of fascist thinking.

The taste of this constant paranoia is bitter on the tongue. It transforms neighbors into suspects, disagreement into treason. It makes the mouth dry with fear and suspicion. What begins as political rhetoric becomes a psychological prison, with bars made of conspiracy theories and locks forged from fear.

The Weaponization of Victimhood

Germans in the 1930s were told repeatedly that they were victims—victims of international Jewish conspiracies, victims of communists, victims of the Versailles Treaty. This narrative of victimhood didn't just convince people—it seeped into their bones, becoming part of their identity. You could see it in their posture, in the defensive stance of a nation that believed itself under perpetual attack despite being the aggressor.

The MAGA movement has mastered this same psychological manipulation. Despite controlling much of the government for years, despite the wealth and privilege of its leaders, it has convinced millions of Americans that they are the true victims in society. White Christians, the historically most powerful demographic in America, are portrayed as an endangered species. The wealthy are portrayed as persecuted by taxation.

Feel the weight of this inverted reality. It sits heavy on the chest, making it hard to breathe with its absurdity. Donny McCrappy, a man born into wealth, who shits on golden toilets and has never faced a consequence for his actions, has somehow positioned himself as the ultimate victim, and by extension, the champion of all who feel victimized.

This perversion of victimhood is a powerful drug. It provides a sweet relief from personal responsibility and offers permission for retribution. Why show restraint when you're only fighting back against oppressors? Why feel guilty about cruelty when you're merely defending yourself? The burning sensation of righteous anger feels good to those who've been convinced they're the real victims of history.

The Assault on Truth

Listen carefully to the sound of truth being murdered. In Nazi Germany, it was the crackle of book fires, the thud of newspaper offices being shuttered, the muffled whispers of citizens afraid to speak openly. Today, it's the constant static of "fake news" accusations, the digital roar of conspiracy theories, the algorithmic amplification of lies.

Joseph Goebbels understood that truth is the first casualty in the march toward fascism. "If you tell a lie big enough and keep repeating it, people will eventually come to believe it." The Nazi propaganda machine didn't just promote falsehoods—it created an entire alternate reality where facts became malleable tools of the state.

The MAGA movement didn't invent this playbook, but holy shit, have they perfected it for the digital age. Donald McStinkface's documented lies number in the thousands, yet millions accept his version of reality over observable facts. His infamous claim that you shouldn't believe what you see and hear—but instead what he tells you—is fascism 101, straight out of the authoritarian handbook.

The texture of this war on truth feels like quicksand—the more you struggle against it with facts and evidence, the more its adherents dig in. The ground beneath public discourse has become unstable, with reality itself now a matter of partisan opinion. This erosion of shared truth isn't just a political problem—it's an existential threat to democracy that tastes like ash in the mouth of anyone who values reason.

The Fetishization of Strength and Violence

Close your eyes and listen to a MAGA rally. Beneath the cheers and chants, you'll hear something primal—the unmistakable growl of aggression being celebrated, of strength being worshipped. Now listen to recordings of Nazi rallies. The same guttural celebration of power echoes across time.

The Nazi aesthetic was built around strength, virility, and dominance. Weakness was despised, compromise was portrayed as surrender, and violence was not just tolerated but glorified. The party's paramilitary wing, the SA (Brownshirts), used intimidation and brutality as political tools long before the Holocaust began.

In the MAGA movement, we've witnessed the same disturbing romance with force. Donaldo Fartfisted encouraging supporters to "knock the crap out of" protesters, promising to pay legal fees for violence, praising a congressman who body-slammed a reporter, telling the Proud Boys to "stand back and stand by." The January 6th insurrection wasn't an aberration—it was the logical conclusion of years of violent rhetoric.

Feel the heat of this aggression. It radiates like a fever, warming the blood of adherents with the intoxicating promise of dominance. The muscular politics of both movements celebrate a vision of strength that's childishly simplistic—all flex and no finesse, all threat and no thought. It smells of sweat and fear, a pheromone cocktail that bypasses the rational brain and speaks directly to our most primitive instincts.

The Corruption of Patriotism

Breathe in the distinct aroma of patriotism twisted into nationalism. In 1930s Germany, love of country was transformed into something toxic—a belief in innate German superiority, a zero-sum worldview where German success required others' failure, a conviction that national identity superseded humanity itself.

The Nazis wrapped themselves in national symbols, claimed exclusive ownership of what it meant to be "truly German," and branded any criticism of the regime as treasonous. Patriotism wasn't measured by one's commitment to national ideals but by loyalty to the party and its leader.

The MAGA movement has manufactured the same suffocating atmosphere. American flags used as weapons against Capitol police. Criticism of Donald McFartface equated with hating America. Complicated issues reduced to "America First" simplicities. True patriotism—the kind that holds a nation accountable to its highest ideals—replaced with a blind loyalty that tastes like copper pennies on the tongue.

This bastardized patriotism has a particular scent—acrid and chemical, like the smell of a flag burning. It's patriotism divorced from principles, national pride stripped of national responsibility. It's a cheap counterfeit that millions have mistaken for the real thing.

The Dehumanization of "Others"

Feel the rough texture of dehumanizing language. It scrapes against the skin of our common humanity, creating wounds that never fully heal. In Nazi Germany, Jews were compared to rats, vermin, diseases—language specifically designed to make their persecution feel like public hygiene rather than atrocity.

Today, we've heard immigrants described as an "infestation," as "bringing crime and disease," as "not people" but "animals." This isn't just offensive rhetoric—it's the deliberate linguistic groundwork for cruelty. Before you can convince people to support inhumane policies, you must first convince them that the targets aren't fully human.

The taste of this dehumanization is metallic, like blood. Once you start seeing fellow humans as less than human, violence becomes easier to justify, easier to ignore, easier to participate in. This slippery slope doesn't begin with gas chambers—it begins with words that strip away humanity piece by piece until what remains doesn't deserve compassion or rights.

In both movements, this dehumanization came packaged with a heavy dose of sexual panic. Nazi propaganda constantly highlighted supposed sexual threats posed by Jewish men to German women. Today, immigrants and transgender people are portrayed through the same lens of sexual danger. The visceral nature of these fears bypasses rational thought, creating disgust responses that feel instinctive rather than manufactured.

The Complicity of the "Respectable" Right

Touch the soft fabric of respectability that clothed both movements. Feel how it masked the harder edges beneath, making the unacceptable seem normal, even necessary.

In 1930s Germany, traditional conservatives thought they could control Hitler. Business leaders saw the Nazi Party as a useful tool against communism. Religious leaders remained silent or actively supported the regime. The "respectable" classes provided Hitler with legitimacy long before they provided him with power.

Today, we've watched Republican leaders who once called Turdbucket Trump a "con man," a "kook," and a "cancer on conservatism" fall in line behind him. We've seen evangelical leaders excuse behavior they would condemn in anyone else. We've witnessed corporate America funding politicians who attempted to overturn a democratic election.

The texture of this complicity is smooth and frictionless—like the well-worn path of least resistance. It feels easier in the moment to accommodate extremism than to confront it. But this short-term comfort comes with long-term consequences that are rough and jagged, tearing at the fabric of democratic norms.

The Erosion of Institutions

Listen for the sound of democratic guardrails being dismantled. In Germany, it began with subtle undermining of institutional authority, followed by more blatant power grabs, until finally, the entire democratic structure collapsed under the weight of fascism.

The Nazis didn't abolish the German constitution overnight. They chipped away at it, exploited emergencies to expand executive power, packed courts with loyalists, purged civil servants, and transformed independent institutions into party apparatuses. By the time many Germans realized what was happening, the tools that could have stopped it had already been neutralized.

The MAGA playbook has followed this template with disturbing precision. Attacking judicial independence. Politicizing the Justice Department. Purging career officials. Delegitimizing elections. Attempting to use federal agencies against political enemies. The January 6th attempt to overturn election results wasn't the beginning of an assault on democracy—it was the culmination of years of institutional erosion.

This dismantling has a distinctive sound—not the crash of sudden destruction, but the quieter, more insidious drip of water damage, weakening foundations over time until the structure can no longer stand. It's the sound of norms being violated without consequence, of precedents being shattered without repair, of democratic principles being treated as optional rather than essential.

The Economic Anxiety Trojan Horse

Taste the sour reality of economic manipulation. Both movements exploited genuine economic distress, offering simplistic villains and solutions while actually serving the interests of the wealthy and powerful.

The Nazi Party rose amid the economic devastation of the Great Depression and the lingering effects of post-WWI hyperinflation. They channeled legitimate economic anxiety into racial and political scapegoating, promising that removing Jews from economic life and standing against international finance would restore German prosperity.

The MAGA movement emerged after the 2008 financial crisis, amid growing inequality and the decline of manufacturing jobs. It directed economic frustration toward immigrants, China, and "globalists" (often a thinly veiled antisemitic dog whistle). While claiming to champion the working class, The Dumping Donald's administration enacted massive tax cuts for the wealthy and corporations while attacking labor protections.

The flavor of this economic bait-and-switch is bitter, like drinking what you thought was water only to discover it's vinegar. Real economic suffering is used as kindling for fascist movements, but the policies they implement inevitably worsen conditions for the very people whose anger they've harnessed.

The Warning We Can't Ignore

I'm not suggesting that America in 2025 is identical to Germany in 1933. History doesn't repeat itself exactly—but it does rhyme, and the verse we're hearing now has a cadence that should terrify anyone familiar with the original poem.

The Germany of the 1930s didn't go from democracy to dictatorship overnight. It was a gradual erosion, with each step normalized before the next was taken. Many Germans never believed the worst could happen, even as the foundations of their society were being dismantled around them. By the time the reality became undeniable, resistance had become infinitely more difficult and dangerous.

Today, we stand at a crossroads that echoes that earlier junction. The MAGA movement isn't just another political faction with different policy preferences—it's a direct challenge to the fundamental principles of American democracy. Its similarities to historical fascism aren't semantic coincidences; they're structural parallels that reveal its true nature.

The smell of this historical moment is acrid, like smoke from a distant fire growing closer. The taste is metallic, like fear. The sound is a warning siren that too many are choosing not to hear. The texture is rough and unstable, like ground shifting beneath our feet. And the sight before us shows two paths—one leading toward a renewal of democratic principles and the other toward a darkness we once promised would never return.

We've seen this movie before. We know how it ends. And yet here we are, watching the same scenes unfold as if the conclusion might somehow be different this time. It won't be—unless we recognize the danger for what it is and respond with the urgency it demands.

Citations

1. Snyder, Timothy. "On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century." Tim Duggan Books, 2017.

2. Stanley, Jason. "How Fascism Works: The Politics of Us and Them." Random House, 2018.