History Repeating: Trump's America and the Rise of Fascism in the 1900s
History Repeating: Trump’s America and the Rise of Fascism in the 1900s
Introduction
History often seems to repeat itself, or at least “rhyme” with the past. Today, many observers draw disturbing parallels between the United States of the Donald Trump era and Europe of the early twentieth century, when democracy gave way to fascist regimes in Italy and Nazi Germany. In particular, the recent Trump presidency (2025-2026) — marked by extreme rhetoric, authoritarian tendencies, and discriminatory policies — is increasingly compared to the final phase of democratic erosion that characterized the rise to power of Benito Mussolini and Adolf Hitler. If history repeats itself, we might ask: at what point in the process are we? Some suggest that January 2026 in the USA symbolically equals 1933 in Germany or 1925 in Italy — a moment when democracy formally still exists, but the establishment of a dictatorship is imminent. In this essay, we will analyze, from a comparative perspective, the political, social, and cultural parallels between Trump’s America and Europe of the early twentieth century: from popular discontent exploited by leaders, to propaganda and manipulation strategies, to the racial laws of yesterday and the racist measures of today. Thematic and chronological comparisons will be presented — including a comparative timeline — to understand where we stand “historically” in the path toward potential authoritarianism.
Social Discontent and the Search for Scapegoats
At the root of both historical phenomena, we find societies traversed by profound frustration and widespread fears, searching for someone to blame for the crisis. In the 1920s and ’30s, Europe emerged traumatized from World War I and the Great Depression: in Germany, the Weimar Republic was worn down by skyrocketing inflation and unemployment; in Italy, the postwar period brought social unrest (the “Red Biennium”) and economic crisis. The populations were tired and humiliated, ready to listen to anyone who promised order and national redemption. Hitler managed to channel German resentment toward the scapegoat of the Jews (accused of having “stabbed Germany in the back” during the Great War) and toward the foreign powers that had supposedly condemned the country through the Treaty of Versailles. Mussolini, for his part, directed the anger of many Italians against internal socialists/communists and against the weaknesses of the “inefficient” parliament.
Similarly, in contemporary America, the 2008 financial crisis, growing economic inequality, demographic changes, and the COVID-19 pandemic have fueled insecurity and resentment among large swaths of the population. Trump managed to intercept this discontent by offering simple explanations and well-defined culprits: immigrants, minorities, globalist elites. From the speech that opened his 2015 campaign, Trump demonized immigrants as criminals and a threat to society (calling Mexican migrants “rapists” and drug carriers). He accused “globalist” politics of betraying American workers and presented himself as an anti-system outsider capable of “draining the swamp” in Washington — curiously similar to a Mussolini slogan during the reclamation of the Pontine Marshes. Like historical fascists, Trump has simplified complex problems by pointing to easily identifiable enemies: for example, he blamed crime and unemployment on Latino migrants, terrorism on Muslims, and the decline of “traditional values” on progressive movements. This “decomplexification” strategy offers neat answers: “it’s all their fault.” It’s the same mechanism that a century ago led many to believe that by eliminating “the other” (the Jew, the foreigner, the Bolshevik), national crises could be magically solved.
A common element is thus the fear of otherness exploited by leaders. Hitler built an ideology based on racial purity and virulent antisemitism; Mussolini leveraged nationalism and anti-Bolshevik hatred, later embracing antisemitism himself in 1938. Trump, while not proposing an explicit “biological” racial ideology, has given voice and legitimacy to xenophobic nationalist currents in American public opinion. His slogan “Make America Great Again” recalls the promise of a return to a mythical past of lost greatness, similar to Hitler’s calls for a new millennial Reich or Mussolini’s for renewed Roman glory. It’s rhetoric that takes root among a people “tired of others and of crisis,” longing for a strongman to restore order and national pride.
From Democracy to Regime: The Rise to Power
An evident parallel concerns the path of ascent of these leaders and the way they undermined democratic institutions from within. In Germany and Italy, future dictators initially exploited — and subverted — the democratic system to gain legitimacy, only to demolish it once they reached the top. In the United States, we see signs of a similar pattern.
Adolf Hitler first tried the violent route: in 1923, he led a coup d’état (the Munich Putsch) that failed but earned him national notoriety and a media trial during which he propagandized his ideas. Convicted of high treason, he served a light sentence (9 months) during which he wrote Mein Kampf. Ten years later, Hitler changed tactics: taking advantage of the 1929 economic crisis, he brought the Nazi party to electoral success (37% in 1932) and obtained his appointment as Chancellor in January 1933. From that position, within months he dismantled Weimar democracy. Similarly, Benito Mussolini organized paramilitary squads (the Blackshirts) who in 1922 marched on Rome, spreading chaos; the King, intimidated, appointed him to form a government. Initially, Mussolini governed in a coalition, but after just two years — following the assassination of opposition deputy Giacomo Matteotti (1924) — he seized the opportunity to establish dictatorship: in January 1925, he claimed political responsibility for fascist violence and effectively abolished the liberal state, outlawing parties and a free press.
Donald Trump, for his part, came to power through electoral means (winning the 2016 election and returning to the White House in 2024). However, he has not hesitated to flirt with subversive and violent methods. At the end of his first term, when he lost the November 2020 election, Trump refused to accept the verdict of the ballot box and spread the “Big Lie” that victory had been stolen from him through massive fraud — a claim never proven. This conspiratorial narrative has evident analogies with Hitler’s lies after World War I: Hitler accused “internal” forces (Jews, socialists, democrats) of betraying Germany and causing the defeat, thus feeding the myth of the Dolchstoßlegende (the “stab in the back”). Similarly, Trump undermined faith in the American democratic system by proclaiming himself the victim of an electoral conspiracy. Both thus leveraged a great lie repeated until it seemed credible: Hitler himself theorized that the more enormous a lie, the more people tend to believe it, because the common man “would only lie about small things and would be ashamed of lies too big, so he cannot conceive that someone could have the monstrous impudence to falsify reality so infamously.” On these bases, Hitler obtained power in 1933, and Trump managed to maintain his grip on his movement after 2020.
The most dramatic moment of this strategy in America was January 6, 2021, when Trump incited thousands of his supporters to storm the Capitol in Washington, attempting to block the certification of Joe Biden’s victory. This event — the first time in history that the seat of Congress was stormed by rebel citizens — has often been compared to Hitler’s 1923 Putsch: in both cases, it was an attempted coup by violent extremists led by a charismatic nationalist leader. Just as the failed Putsch temporarily weakened Hitler (who was arrested), the January 6 insurrection initially seemed to mark the political end of Trump, who was condemned by Congress (second impeachment) and suspended from social media. But there is a significant difference: the weak German democracy of the 1920s was paradoxically more effective in punishing Hitler — trying him and keeping him out of the spotlight for years — than the robust American democracy has (so far) managed to do with Trump. Hitler remained banned from active politics for nearly a decade; Trump, however, in less than three years after the American “putsch,” returned to power thanks to the 2024 elections. This “acceleration” has led some historians to note that Trump has fast-tracked compared to the pace at which Hitler went from the failed coup to the seizure of power.
Paramilitary Parallels
Another parallel concerns the use (or complicity) of paramilitary forces and political violence. In Italy, fascist squads systematically assaulted and intimidated political opponents even before the seizure of power; in Germany, Hitler’s Brown Shirts (Sturmabteilung or SA) acted as a private Nazi army, organizing punitive expeditions against communists, trade unionists, and Jews. In the United States, there is no official party paramilitary equivalent, but during the Trump era we have seen the flourishing of far-right militias and supremacist groups (Proud Boys, Oath Keepers, armed militiamen) who have placed themselves at the service of the Trumpian cause. Episodes like the 2017 neo-Nazi march in Charlottesville (which ended in tragedy) or the various thwarted violent plots (e.g., the plan to kidnap the Michigan governor in 2020) show how a climate of latent political violence grew around Trump’s incendiary rhetoric. On January 6, 2021, many members of these groups participated in the attack on Congress, in a coordinated action reminiscent of past squadrist violence. Trump himself, in a 2020 debate, addressed the Proud Boys with the phrase “stand back and stand by,” which sounded to many like an incitement to be prepared for action.
Significantly, just as Hitler and Mussolini pardoned or incorporated into the new regime apparatus those who had helped them with violence (Mussolini legalized the Blackshirts into the Fascist Militia; Hitler gave a role to the SA — at least until the 1934 purge), Trump has promised clemency and protection for his followers. During the 2024 campaign, he declared that he would grant presidential pardons to many of those convicted for the January 6 events. Once back in the White House, in 2025 Trump pardoned almost all the Capitol Hill rioters who had been convicted, equating them to patriots unjustly persecuted. This unprecedented gesture — pardoning people who had tried to subvert democracy in his name — sends a clear message: those who act “for Trump” will enjoy regime impunity, just as happened with the violent supporters of the fascist dictators of the 1900s.
Democracy in Danger: Hollowed Institutions and Authoritarian Turn
One of the most alarming parallels is the way in which, once in power, these leaders hollow out democratic institutions from within and arrogate ever more absolute powers. Hitler, within a few months of taking office (1933), used a traumatic event — the Reichstag fire — as a pretext to suspend civil liberties and obtain full powers from parliament (the Ermächtigungsgesetz, March 1933). He then eliminated all opposition: banned parties (except the Nazi Party), dissolved unions, subordinated the judiciary to the Führer’s will, and made the army swear personal loyalty to him. Mussolini acted similarly: he passed exceptional laws (like the Acerbo Law of 1923 to distort the electoral system in his favor), then between 1925 and 1926 enacted the “ultra-fascist laws” that abolished press freedom, dissolved parties, and created special tribunals. In both cases, within a few years of ascending to government, democracy was effectively dismantled and replaced by single-party authoritarian regimes.
What Is Happening in the United States (2025-2026)?
Although the American institutional framework is solid in itself (Constitution, Supreme Court, Congress, local autonomies), the signs of an authoritarian turn are numerous and disturbing. Upon taking office in January 2025, Trump launched what various analysts call a “war on American democracy.” In the first weeks, he issued a flurry of executive orders aimed at concentrating power in his hands and weakening electoral oversight mechanisms: these directives “hindered access to voting, compromised free elections, and created distrust in the electoral system” according to the Brookings think tank. Trump has shown total disregard for constitutional procedures, acting by decree where normally parliament would be required. For example, he declared that he wanted to abolish the 14th Amendment (which guarantees birthright citizenship on American soil) simply through executive order, thus without following the lengthy formal constitutional amendment process. Indeed, he issued an order denying automatic citizenship to children born in the USA to mothers without permanent legal status, in an obvious attempt to cancel the jus soli guaranteed by the Constitution. This measure — of dubious constitutional legitimacy — is a turning point: for the first time in the USA, citizenship would depend on ethno-legal criteria, eerily echoing the 1935 Nazi definition whereby only those with pure “German blood” were citizens of the Reich.
At the same time, Trump has initiated a systematic purge of the public administration and oversight bodies. He fired or pushed into resignation thousands of federal officials and managers considered “suspicious” or simply not loyal enough to him personally. He has also employed external figures: sensationally, he tasked entrepreneur Elon Musk (unelected and not part of the formal government) with conducting a “reconnaissance” of the federal apparatus to eliminate unwanted elements. Musk led what has been called the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), a special unit created by Trump with an executive order in early 2025. This informal body was sent to various ministries with a mandate to “streamline” the administration, but in reality with the task of torpedoing officials and dismantling programs not aligned with the presidential agenda. Musk (acting as Trump’s plenipotentiary) even demanded weekly reports from all employees on what they had done, threatening dismissal for those who didn’t show satisfactory results. Several department secretaries (Defense, FBI, etc.) invited staff not to obey Musk in the absence of legal basis, but other managers yielded. This confusion of roles between state power and parallel personal power recalls the phenomenon of “polycracy” in the Third Reich, where the official state structure was paralleled by Nazi Party organs, often with overlapping and competing competencies. The result, as described by German historian Ernst Fraenkel, was a dual system: on one side the normal rule of law, on the other the exceptional sphere of the Führer and the party, with the latter progressively invading all areas of public life.
The “Parallel Government”
Trump is thus creating a “parallel government” of loyalists unbound by oversight, acting on his behalf — just as Hitler created extra-legal structures (the SS, the Gestapo, etc.) to impose his will bypassing ordinary procedures. We are witnessing an authoritarian “coordination” of institutions: an evocative term, Gleichschaltung (synchronization), was used by the Nazis to indicate the forced alignment of every aspect of society with the Party’s will. Indeed, Trump effectively imposed a similar principle with a February 2025 executive order titled “Ensuring Accountability of All Agencies.” In that decree, he established that all federal agencies — including those independent by law — are subordinate to the President; every decision must be coordinated with the White House. He even stipulated that only the President (or by delegation the Attorney General) can provide “authentic” interpretations of laws for the executive, and such interpretations are binding on every official. In practice, a public employee cannot apply a rule against the President’s will, since presidential will supersedes the law itself. This fully embodies the “unitary executive” doctrine that Trumpian ideologues advocate: the idea that all executive powers reside in the president, who can therefore bend even theoretically autonomous agencies (such as regulatory authorities, central bank, prosecutorial magistracy, etc.) to himself. The parallel with Hitler’s Führerprinzip is evident: Hitler considered his will the ultimate source of law — “the will of the Führer is law.” Nazi jurists maintained that no written norm could limit the leader, and that officials should intuit what the Führer would want in every situation, acting accordingly. Today, with that executive order, Trump has stated that no US official can adopt legal interpretations that contradict the President’s opinion, under penalty of removal. An authoritative law professor commented that in justification and result, this measure is “indistinguishable from Nazi doctrine.”
Attacks on Judiciary and Armed Forces
The Trumpian attack on the rule of law has also been seen in relations with the judiciary and armed forces. Hitler in 1934 purged the “radical” wing of his movement (Night of the Long Knives) to gain army support, and once power was consolidated, had compliant judges appointed, establishing special tribunals for “enemies of the people.” Mussolini did likewise: he created the Special Tribunal for the Defense of the State (1926) and progressively subordinated judges and law enforcement to the regime, marginalizing independent ones. Trump, from his first term, has often verbally attacked federal judges who obstructed his decrees (e.g., those who struck down the initial travel ban) and has even threatened action against lawyers and law firms representing cases against him. In his second term, these pressures have intensified: he has threatened judges (e.g., insulting those involved in his fraud trials and January 6 investigations) and publicly attacked entire appeals courts considered “too liberal.” He has demanded personal loyalty even from academia (threatening funding to “hostile” universities). On the military front, Trump has fired or forced into retirement several generals at the top: he dismissed the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs (General Mark Milley, whom Biden had granted preventive immunity before leaving office to protect him from potential Trump retaliation) and replaced other high-ranking officers with commanders deemed “loyal.” This recalls the 1938 German army purge, when Hitler replaced skeptical military chiefs with more aligned ones and had officers swear loyalty not to the homeland but to him personally. Similarly, Trump’s intention today is to have politically reliable generals, willing even to use troops against internal opponents if requested (a prospect Trump explicitly suggested, speaking of deploying the National Guard against “internal enemies” in the USA).
Subjugation of Legislative and Judicial Branches
The legislative and judicial branches in the USA are also undergoing a process of subjugation similar to what happened in 1930s Europe. The Republican Party, controlled by Trump, has largely renounced any autonomy: GOP congressmen and senators rarely dare to oppose the President, for fear of political retaliation and losing the support of his MAGA loyalists. In effect, the Trumpian majority Congress has become a mere ratifier of presidential wishes — a role not unlike the Italian fascist parliament after 1925 or the German Reichstag after 1933 (which unanimously voted for laws proposed by Hitler, becoming little more than theater). Regarding justice, Trump had already appointed federal judges and three Supreme Court members during his first term, ensuring a right-leaning Court. Now, according to some reports, the Trump-majority Supreme Court has issued rulings that de facto place the president above the law — for example, declaring that a sitting president cannot be prosecuted for criminal offenses. If confirmed, this would mean the creation of a “republican monarch” unaccountable before the law, a condition typical of authoritarian regimes (Hitler and Mussolini were obviously not subject to the judgment of any independent Court in their system). Furthermore, the Department of Justice under Trump has been purged: independent prosecutors out, people close to the President in. The new DOJ immediately dismissed pending investigations and proceedings concerning Trump, his family, and his allies. This includes cases arising from scandals in previous years: from investigations into 2020 electoral interference to proceedings for tax fraud or classified documents. Everything buried, as in every self-respecting regime — where “everything is permitted to the boss.”
It is striking to note how these moves mirror the first measures with which historical dictatorships consolidated power: the Nazis, upon entering ministries in 1933, cleaned out “unreliable” officials (especially Jews and opponents) with the Law for the Restoration of the Professional Civil Service; today Trump fires “liberal” or simply neutral bureaucrats, replacing them with loyalists. The Nazis centralized every important decision in the hands of Hitler and his inner circle, reducing ministers and organs to mere executors; Trump centralizes all levers in the Oval Office, calling “so-called independent agencies” (as in his EO) those that should be autonomous, and subordinating them to himself. Mussolini already in 1926 abolished judicial independence and instituted police confinement for political opponents: similarly, Trump suggests (or threatens) to ignore any rulings against him and proposes special surveillance measures for those labeled as “radical left” or “anarchist.” This normalization of power abuse often advances gradually: Mussolini spoke of “plucking the chicken one feather at a time” (i.e., removing liberties little by little) so that people don’t notice. Similarly, Trump erodes democratic checks step by step: a judge removed here, a journalist intimidated there, a technical regulatory change elsewhere, and meanwhile the ordinary citizen struggles to perceive the overall scope of change. As one historian observed, Trump is essentially “plucking the feathers” of American democracy one by one, in an insidious manner.
Finally, Trump doesn’t hide ultra-presidential ambitions. In the past he had joked about staying in office for life like certain dictators; now, facing the constitutional limit of two terms, he has suggested wanting a third term and ironically called himself “the king.” These statements, although often presented in joking tones, psychologically prepare the ground for the idea that the rule of democratic rotation can be broken. Hitler and Mussolini obviously didn’t need re-election — they were for life by definition. Trump, should he consolidate enough power, could seek ways to remain beyond 2028, for example by pressuring to abolish or circumvent the 22nd Amendment (which sets the two-term limit). His most devoted followers would certainly support the idea: in the past, some Congressional Republicans proposed as a provocation to abolish that limit if necessary for Trump.
Racial Laws Then and Now: Institutionalized Discrimination
A central — and chilling — parallel concerns the legal persecution of minorities through racist measures. Racial laws were the trademark of the fascist and Nazi regimes: in Germany, the Nuremberg Laws of 1935 sanctioned the separation of Jews from the civic body (no citizenship, prohibition of mixed marriages, etc.), a prelude to far worse violence to follow; in Italy, the racial laws of 1938 excluded Jews from schools, public employment, marriage with “Aryans,” and military service, instituting an antisemitic apartheid even in Italy. These regulations codified state racist ideology, treating a category of people not as citizens but as pariahs without rights.
Today in the United States, there are no laws explicitly based on race in their text (partly because the Constitution would expressly prohibit it after civil rights struggles). However, the Trump administration has introduced policies that, in substance and effect, are strongly discriminatory on ethnic or religious grounds — to the point that several commentators compare them to those of the 1930s. An emblematic case from the first term was the so-called “Muslim Ban” of 2017: an executive order by which Trump banned entry to the USA for citizens of various Muslim countries, officially for security reasons. This measure, later reviewed by the Supreme Court and partially modified, was perceived as an attack on an entire religious group, comparable (in rhetoric) to considering all Muslims as potential terrorists. On the immigration front from the southern border, Trump adopted measures of unprecedented harshness: thousands of children were separated from families and detained in custody centers, in a deliberate attempt to discourage asylum requests — a policy condemned by the United Nations for its cruelty and compared by some to the work of inhumane regimes of the past. Already in a 2019 article, for example, a Milwaukee newspaper compared the condition of Hispanic families hiding to escape ICE (immigration police) to that of Anne Frank, reimagining her diary in terms of a Latina girl fleeing federal raids. This analogy, which might have seemed bold, has become even more apt during the new Trump term, in which certain measures have taken force of law.
The 2025 Turning Point: Mandatory Immigrant Registration
The most significant turning point came in 2025: the Trump administration implemented mandatory registration of all undocumented immigrants present on US territory. From April 11, 2025, anyone without papers must register with the federal government, providing their data, with the threat of criminal penalties (heavy fines and imprisonment) and deportation for non-compliance. Conversely, even those who voluntarily register obtain no regularization — indeed, they remain liable at any moment to detention and forced repatriation, since the mere fact of being undocumented is treated as a crime. The government has even initiated a procedure to erase approximately 6,000 undocumented immigrants from records, declaring them “deceased” for registry and social security purposes, so as to invalidate their Social Security numbers and prevent them from working, opening bank accounts, or accessing basic services. In practice, it renders them invisible on paper, depriving them of any legitimate means of sustenance, with the aim of forcing them to voluntarily leave the country — a strategy of “self-deportation” through deprivation of fundamental civil rights.
Nazi Parallels
It is impossible not to notice the analogies with anti-Jewish measures in the Reich in the 1930s. In 1938, Nazi Germany issued decrees requiring all Jews to register their assets with the State; Jewish passports were marked with a red “J,” and people of Jewish origin without “recognizably Jewish” names were required to add “Israel” or “Sara” to their name. In 1939, Jews had to carry special identity cards at all times. These bureaucratic measures — initially presented as simple administrative regulations — laid the groundwork for excluding Jews from economic life, expropriating them, and finally persecuting them openly. Today, Trump’s immigrant registry works very similarly: every undocumented immigrant must always carry documents certifying registration, under penalty of arrest. In effect, it is indistinguishable in spirit from the Nazi requirement for Jews to display a special document — it identifies a specific target group and subjects them to a separate and harassing legal regime. Those who don’t register are by definition criminals liable to imprisonment; those who do register end up in a database that facilitates their future capture and detention (often in private facilities, given that the mass detention infrastructure has been expanded with federal contracts). In essence, being an undocumented immigrant has become a crime in itself — a change from the past, when federal law considered irregular entry a civil administrative offense, not criminal. This criminalization recalls what happened with the 1935 Nuremberg Laws: in Germany, being Jewish in itself made you lose citizenship and many legal protections, transforming you into a “foreigner” in your homeland and preparing the ground for sanctions simply for existing. An editorialist observed that similarly “the Trump regime has made the mere presence” of undocumented immigrants in the USA illegal, echoing the legal transformation undergone by Jews under Nazism.
Furthermore, the expedient of canceling Social Security numbers for targeted immigrants is practically equivalent to the Nazi strategy of excluding Jews from the economy: in 1938, Nazis forced Jews to declare their assets so they could freeze and seize them. Today in the USA, removing someone’s Social Security Number means cutting them off from work, banking, housing, any aspect of public life (you can’t rent an apartment, drive, or receive official wages). It is a measure designed to isolate and dehumanize them, pushing them to desperation and therefore voluntary flight. All this while official propaganda insists that “we’re just enforcing the law”: a sinister argument, given that the Nazi regime also justified its anti-Jewish edicts as perfectly legal according to the existing order — but legality doesn’t mean justice, today’s activists warn. Indeed, the targeted bureaucratic hostility toward an entire ethnic group (Latino immigrants) is obvious: Trump’s registry specifically targets that population (just as Nazi measures were calibrated to Jews), with the intent to limit their movements, cut off their means of sustenance, and force their removal. This is exactly what racial laws do: they create categories of people inferior by law, subject to special treatment and deprivation of rights.
Other Contemporary “Racist” Laws and Acts
Beyond the registry case, there are other examples of contemporary “racist” laws and acts. Trump had already tried to insert a citizenship question in the 2020 census, a move seen as an attempt to intimidate Hispanic communities and reduce their representation. He drastically lowered refugee quotas admitted to the country (reducing them to historic lows), with often Islamophobic (regarding Syrian or Afghan refugees) and generally xenophobic motivations. During the 2024 campaign, he proposed to reinstate and toughen the Muslim Ban, to enact an ideological test for immigrants (admitting only those who “share traditional American values”), and even to declare the arrival of migrants from Mexico an “invasion” so as to deploy the army at the border. Such ideas mirror the siege mentality of historical fascisms, which depicted internal minorities and foreigners as enemies to be fought.
Not only that: just as Hitler and Mussolini also persecuted other groups (Roma, homosexuals, disabled people, political opponents, etc.), in the Trumpian ecosystem we witness attacks on various minorities and vulnerable groups:
- The LGBTQ+ community — the attempts to ban transgender people from serving in the Armed Forces, or the laws of Trump-allied governors against the rights of trans people and against recognition of gay families
- Non-Christian religious minorities — anti-Muslim rhetoric and the rhetorical equation Islam = terrorism
- African Americans themselves — indirectly affected by policies like voting restrictions passed in many Republican states, which limit early voting and mail-in voting tools typically used more by minorities
Although formally justified by “security” or “anti-electoral corruption” reasons, such voting restrictions have a disproportionate impact on Black and Latino voters, recalling the poll taxes and Jim Crow laws that in the segregationist South aimed to keep non-whites away from the polls.
In summary, just as yesterday’s racial laws created a hierarchy of citizens and non-citizens based on ethnicity, today we see a series of regulations and practices emerging that do something similar: deprive certain groups (migrants, minorities) of fundamental rights and legitimize their inhumane treatment. The philosophy of government that emerges is common: define a subhuman “internal enemy” and strike them with the legislative instrument. This represents a betrayal of democratic principles of equality before the law, just as happened in the 1930s. It is worth reiterating, in the words of one historian, that comparisons with Nazism are no longer mere hyperbole: “Trump’s strategy echoes chilling precedents from pre-Holocaust Germany,” so much so that it is no longer theory but History.
Propaganda, Cult of the Leader, and Manipulation of the Masses
Another field of parallel is the cultural and communicative one. The fascist and Nazi regimes were extremely skilled at shaping consensus through propaganda, symbols, myths, and the cult of personality. Trump’s movement also presents analogous dynamics, adapted to today’s context.
The Cult of the Leader
Hitler was called Führer (Guide) and portrayed almost as a messianic savior of the homeland; Mussolini was the Duce (the Duke, the Chief) idolized by crowds. In both cases, an infallible charismatic aura was built around the figure of the leader, requiring absolute loyalty. Those who supported Hitler or Mussolini often developed genuine personal devotion. In Trump’s case, many scholars now openly speak of a “cult of personality” around him. His most ardent supporters (the MAGA base) display his name on hats, flags, and banners as if it were a sacred brand; they believe his words regardless of external verification; they justify or deny his every fault. This cult feeds on a narrative where Trump is the “only one who tells the truth,” the “only one who can fix things” (his famous proclamation “I alone can fix it” during the 2016 Republican Convention). Also his referring to himself in the third person and the constant use of his own brand recalls Mussolini (who loved being called Il Duce and spoke of himself as such). Not coincidentally, Trump has sometimes directly quoted Mussolini: in 2016 he retweeted a phrase attributed to the Italian dictator (“better to live one day as a lion than a hundred years as a sheep”), and when the source was pointed out to him, he replied “what does it matter? It’s an interesting quote.” This anecdote, beyond curiosity, shows how Trump is aware of and even pleased with parallels to strongmen of the past — as long as it depicts him as a strong leader, it doesn’t matter if he’s compared to a dictator.
Propaganda Techniques and Language
Hitler and Mussolini well understood the power of words and images. They used fiery speeches, full of simple slogans repeated to exhaustion, with deliberately violent language toward enemies. For example, they defined opponents as “parasites,” “insects,” “infections” to be eradicated. Hitler in particular often equated Jews to “vermin” (scheusale in German) and spoke of “purifying Germany” from these corrupt elements. Similarly, Trump in recent years has adopted dehumanizing terms toward those who oppose him or toward entire ethnic groups. In rallies and interviews from 2023-2024, he called some opponents “radical left thugs” who “live like worms” in the slums. He stated that immigrants “are poisoning the blood of our country” and “destroying American blood,” insinuating concepts of blood purity clearly borrowed from racist vocabulary. He depicted them as carriers of “bad genes” and called them “not human, but animals,” “cold-blooded killers.” Even opposing political figures (who are American citizens) have been labeled by Trump as “internal enemies… sick people, radical left lunatics,” adding that they “must be dealt with by force, if necessary using the National Guard or even the army.” This is language never before heard from an American president — it directly resembles that of Hitler, Stalin, or Mussolini. As historian Anne Applebaum notes, terms like “vermin” in American political debate were out of the ordinary until now: not even the most racist politicians of the recent past used such extreme biological metaphors. Trump has thus normalized an ultra-authoritarian vocabulary that serves to dehumanize opponents and unwanted groups. And history teaches what such language serves: if you convince the population that certain individuals are not human beings but parasites, rats, diseases, it will be much easier for them to accept extreme repressive measures against them (mass arrests, deprivation of rights, physical violence). Hitler and other dictators did this consciously; Trump is following that same rhetorical playbook, inserting into the American mainstream concepts previously relegated to the fringes.
Slogans and Staging
Another characteristic is the use of slogans and staging. “Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Führer” (one People, one Empire, one Leader) shouted the Germans; “Believe, Obey, Fight” said a fascist motto in Italy. Trump has his own simple and obsessive slogans: “Make America Great Again,” then just “MAGA,” or “America First.” The latter in particular has a sinister historical echo: America First was the isolationist slogan of Charles Lindbergh and others in the 1930s, some of whom harbored sympathies for Hitler. Not that Trump consciously wants to evoke that ideology, but the reference is there and has often been highlighted. Trump’s big rallies — with the crowd in red MAGA cheering, slogans shouted in chorus (“Lock her up!” against Hillary Clinton, “Build the wall!” and so on) — have been compared to the mass rallies at Nuremberg organized by Goebbels for Hitler, or the oceanic gatherings in Piazza Venezia for Mussolini. Indeed, Trump’s rally style is much closer to Mussolini’s theatrical and striking approach: Trump moves on stage in a histrionic manner, makes funny faces, throws out jokes and insults that make his supporters laugh or cheer, improvises beyond prepared text (often throwing papers on stage to show he speaks “from the heart”). Mussolini was famous for theatrical poses — chest out, hands on hips, protruding jaw — and for knowing how to warm up the crowd with catchy phrases and pronounced gestures. Trump, though with American style, shares that kind of stage presence: this was seen from the 2016 Convention, when he entered the scene walking through a smoke effect and dramatic lights, emerging from shadows like a savior. These elements of political theater are crucial in such leaders’ constructed charisma. A scholar (Henk de Berg) who compared Hitler and Trump defines them both as “artists of political performance,” more than traditional politicians: skilled at catalyzing attention with extremism, insults, and provocations, more than detailing concrete programs. Indeed, both Hitler and Trump used to make vague promises of greatness (e.g., “Make Germany/America Great Again”), but without going too much into details — instead focusing on jokes, offenses to enemies, and extreme language to attract media and dominate public conversation. Hitler in Mein Kampf explicitly admitted using exaggerated statements to provoke reactions and force newspapers to talk about him. Trump instinctively applies the same tactic: he says outrageous things (falsehoods or vulgarities) that inevitably get media coverage. This creates a dilemma for opponents and media: ignore him (leaving him free rein) or reply (giving him further visibility)? It’s a game that radical populists know well.
Modern Communication
Furthermore, both movements have skillfully exploited the most modern means of communication of the era. Hitler was one of the first politicians to take full advantage of radio and cinema: his speeches were broadcast in German homes, and propaganda films (like those by Leni Riefenstahl) exalted the Führer cult. Mussolini made extensive use of newsreels and posters. Trump, for his part, is a child of television and Twitter: before entering politics, he was a reality show star (The Apprentice), and as president he communicated directly with the people by tweeting furiously every day, bypassing traditional press. His tweets were equivalent to Hitler’s radio proclamations — simple, direct, emotional messages. As historian Ruth Ben-Ghiat observed, “film was to Mussolini what Twitter is to Trump”: both give the impression of speaking directly to the people without filters. This immediate contact feeds the illusion of authenticity and closeness (“a leader who tells it like it is, one of us”). It doesn’t matter if in reality the message is artfully constructed: what matters is the symbiotic relationship with the crowd. Trump, like demagogues of the past, “needs the crowd to consolidate his own personality”: so much so that in moments without an audience (e.g., studio debates, formal press conferences), he appears more nervous — his constant sniffing during the 2016 debates was famously interpreted by Ben-Ghiat as a sign of discomfort because he lacked the comfort of mass acclaim.
The Use of Lies and Totalizing Propaganda
A further parallel is the unscrupulous use of lies and totalizing propaganda. Hitler was a serial liar in the political arena (from promises of peace before the war, to slanders about Jews), and Goebbels theorized that “by repeating a lie long enough, it becomes reality.” Trump has shown similar ease with the truth: in four years as president, he made over 30,000 false or misleading statements according to the Washington Post’s fact-checking count. From the crowd at his inauguration (“the biggest ever” — false) to conspiracy theories about Obama and vaccines, to the aforementioned electoral Big Lie, post-truth has become the norm. Here too, the purpose is to confuse the public to the point of making them doubt everything except the leader’s word. Hitler considered reality something to be shaped through propaganda; similarly, Trump and his media ecosystem (Fox News, right-wing media, social networks) construct an alternative reality for their followers, in which Trump is always the victim of schemes, his opponents are demonic criminals, and any negative news about him is “fake news.” This is a typical trait of authoritarian regimes: creating a climate of paranoia and perpetual war against external and internal enemies, so as to justify exceptional measures and keep the following united.
Censorship and Media Control
Finally, censorship and media control: historical fascisms gagged the free press almost immediately (in Italy, opposition newspapers were closed in 1925, in Germany the suffocation was gradual but within a year of Hitler’s rise there was no longer independent press). In the USA, the First Amendment protects press freedom; Trump couldn’t “close” outlets, but he repeatedly defined non-aligned media as “enemies of the people,” attacking their credibility. This phrase — “Enemy of the People” — is taken directly from Stalinist vocabulary (Stalin called dissidents that). The effect of such attacks has been corrosive: many Americans now believe that prestigious newspapers like the New York Times or networks like CNN systematically lie. During the second presidency, pressure on media has increased: publishers like Jeff Bezos (Washington Post) and Patrick Soon-Shiong (Los Angeles Times), fearing retaliation, avoided taking a clear stance in the 2024 elections, even refraining from officially endorsing Trump’s opponent (Kamala Harris). Meta/Facebook, which had suspended Trump after the 2021 insurrection, agreed to pay a $25 million settlement to avoid lawsuits and reactivate his account. This shows how even without formal censorship, a vindictive and powerful enough leader can intimidate free information. If we also consider that Trump has often floated the idea of enacting stricter defamation laws to punish “dishonest” media, it’s clear that once power is consolidated, he could well find ways to limit the press. Mussolini himself achieved total control not immediately but with a crescendo of pressures and legislative measures: Trump could follow a similar trajectory, especially if some “incident” serves as justification (e.g., serious civil unrest, internal attacks, etc., which he could exploit to declare states of emergency and impose gags). Here too, history teaches: Hitler used the Reichstag fire (attributed to communists) to suspend freedoms and mass arrest opponents. It cannot be ruled out that an event of internal chaos (spontaneous or provoked) in 2026-27 could be similarly exploited by the Trump administration to repress opponents in the name of national security.
Chronological Comparison: 2026 as 1933?
After examining parallels in various areas, let’s return to the question: if history repeats itself, does January 2026 today correspond to which year in the 20th-century historical events? A plausible answer is that we are in a phase equivalent to the early 1930s, when the dictatorial turn was underway but had not yet reached its extreme consequences. Below is a comparative timeline that juxtaposes key dates of the Nazi-fascist rise with recent events in Trump’s USA:
1923 (Germany) — Munich Putsch
Failed coup attempt by Hitler, leading to his arrest and temporary decline.
2021 (USA) — Capitol Hill assault: Failed insurrectionary attempt by Trump supporters who occupy Congress on January 6, trying to overturn the electoral outcome. (Like Hitler after 1923, Trump was initially isolated but continues to foment his cause).
1925 (Italy) — Fascist Dictatorship Institutionalized
Mussolini, following the Matteotti crisis (1924), delivers the January 3, 1925 speech assuming responsibility for fascism and effectively inaugurates the authoritarian regime; the following year he enacts laws that eliminate civil liberties.
2025 (USA) — Trumpian authoritarian turn: After reinauguration in January, Trump immediately adopts decrees and measures that bypass the Constitution and neutralize democratic counterweights. The government begins governing by unilateral acts, establishing a de facto regime of “illiberal democracy.” (Parallel: democracy is not yet abolished on paper, but in practice is heavily eroded).
February-March 1933 (Germany) — Reichstag Fire and Enabling Act
An arson fire at Parliament (February 27) is exploited by Hitler to declare a state of emergency. On March 23, the Reichstag passes the Ermächtigungsgesetz transferring legislative power to the government, marking the end of the Weimar Republic. Mass arrests of opponents and newspaper closures begin.
2025-2026 (USA) — Concentration of power: The Trump administration depicts political opponents and some minorities as “internal enemies,” evoking conspiracy theories (e.g., electoral fraud, migrant “invasions”) to justify exceptional measures. Through executive orders, Trump concentrates normally limited powers on himself: he subordinates independent agencies to presidential control, bypasses Congress where possible, and benefits from the complicity of a loyal majority parliament. The separation of powers is effectively suspended: both legislative and (partly) judicial bend to the leader’s will. (Parallel: analogously to 1933, democratic checks are neutralized, though not through a single dramatic act like the Enabling Act, but through many coordinated administrative moves).
June-July 1934 (Germany) — “Night of the Long Knives”
Hitler violently eliminates the last pockets of internal resistance (SA faction no longer welcome, remaining opponents). In August 1934, upon President Hindenburg’s death, Hitler also assumes the role of Head of State, becoming sole Führer.
2025-2026 (USA) — Purges and absolute loyalty: Trump fires or forces the resignation of high-level officials (generals, agency heads, “disloyal” members in his party), replacing them only with ultra-loyalists. Every critical voice in the Republican camp is expelled (e.g., GOP lawmakers who had voted for impeachment in 2021 are isolated or forced to retire). Trump and his allies launch targeted investigations and attacks against uncomfortable figures remaining in the state apparatus, creating a climate of fear. (Parallel: there hasn’t been a bloodbath like 1934, but there has been political/administrative purging, and personal loyalty to Trump becomes the sole criterion for advancement — mirroring Hitler’s goal of surrounding himself only with loyalists).
September 1935 (Germany) — Nuremberg Laws
Nazi Germany enacts racial laws depriving Jews of German citizenship and banning mixed marriages. The legislative phase of antisemitic persecution begins, transforming Jews into second-class citizens (or non-citizens).
2025 (USA) — Anti-immigrant decrees: Trump issues the executive order to deny birthright citizenship to children of undocumented immigrants born in America, in direct contrast with the 14th Amendment. Mandatory registration for all undocumented migrants is introduced, with criminalization of non-compliance. Accelerated mass deportations of asylum seekers occur, thanks to new regulations that deny almost any procedural protection. (Parallel: as in 1935 in Germany, in 2025 in the USA forms of legal discrimination based on birth and ethnic/racial status are institutionalized, creating a system of civic apartheid toward a specific group).
November 1938 (Germany) — Kristallnacht
Coordinated pogroms and attacks against the Jewish population (synagogues burned, shops destroyed, 30,000 Jews arrested), marking the passage to the openly violent and pre-genocidal phase of persecution.
2026 (USA) — Climate of violence and hatred: Official rhetoric reaches extreme tones of dehumanization (Trump calls “vermin,” “animals,” and “scum” unwanted groups). This language fuels an increase in hate crimes and attacks by supremacists against minorities (already during Trump’s first term, FBI data recorded a spike in hate crimes, a trend that continues). Meanwhile, the government expands large-scale detention of immigrants in camps and private prisons. Civil rights activists denounce systematic abuses in detention centers (overcrowding, violence, permanent family separations). Ethnic profiling techniques and sweeps of entire neighborhoods with high undocumented immigrant presence are experimented with, recalling ethnically targeted police operations. (Parallel: 1938 marked a point of no return toward barbarism in Germany; in 2026, although not at those levels of state violence, a further hardening of repression and a crescendo of tolerated violence against demonized groups is observed. It’s as if we were on the edge of an even darker phase).
1939-1940 (Europe) — War and Total Dictatorship
Nazi Germany invades Poland (September ‘39) starting World War II; Fascist Italy enters the war alongside Hitler in 1940. War mobilization completes the transformation of these regimes into absolute totalitarianisms, with genocide and global catastrophe in the following years.
2027-2028? (USA) — Into the unknown: It’s impossible to predict future developments with certainty, but if the historical parallel holds, the coming years could see further hardening of the Trumpian regime. Potentially, Trump could seek a pretext (an external conflict or a serious internal emergency) to declare a permanent state of war or emergency, de jure suspending what remains of constitutional guarantees. There is already discussion of the possibility that Trump might deliberately ignore unfavorable Supreme Court rulings: if that happened, the last institutional bastion would be broken and only public opinion’s reaction could stop the drift. The historical analogy suggests that much will depend on how much American civil society is willing to tolerate — Nazi-fascist regimes, though brutal, felt the pulse of the population and sometimes retreated on unpopular measures (example: in 1941 Hitler suspended the euthanasia program for the disabled due to public protests led by Bishop von Galen). The question thus remains open: will the United States of 2026 follow to the end the tragic script of 20th-century totalitarianisms, or will democratic forces manage to break this historical “fatality” before it’s too late?
Conclusion
Summing up, the current American panorama presents striking similarities to the transition phases that a century ago led from democracy to dictatorship in Europe. In many respects, today (early 2026) resembles 1933 in Germany or 1925 in Italy: we are at a moment when democracy still nominally exists, but is severely weakened and close to definitive collapse. Donald Trump, with his populist and authoritarian leadership style, echoes traits of both Mussolini (in theatricality, personalistic cult, use of fear and propaganda) and Hitler (in racist extremism, contempt for norms, unlimited ambition for power). We have seen how his rhetoric echoes that of dictators (from terms like “vermin” and “enemies of the people,” to using the Big Lie to deceive the masses), how his anti-immigration and anti-minority policies closely recall racial laws (immigrant registry like Nazi files, citizenship restrictions like Aryan norms), and how his government action aims to concentrate all power in his hands by eliminating checks and balances (subordination of agencies and justice to the “boss,” just as in the fascist principle of the infallible leader).
Of course, every historical comparison should be taken with caution: history never repeats exactly. The United States of today is not identical to Weimar Germany or liberal Italy of the early 1900s. There are contextual differences (economic, social, technological) and so far we haven’t seen a level of violence comparable to bloody purges or European pogroms — American democracy, though battered, has powerful antibodies in its federal institutions, civil society, and pluralism of state powers. However, history’s “flashbacks” are evident. A historian bitterly commented that Americans, looking at the 1930s, tended to say “it could never happen here”; and yet many signs indicate that it is happening, step by step. Already in 2024, a poll revealed that nearly half of American voters considered Trump a fascist. The parallels listed in this essay explain why this perception exists.
If today American democracy is “one step from the end,” as our analogy with 1933 suggests, the lesson we can draw is twofold. On one hand, it reminds us of democracy’s fragility: even a solid republic can be eroded from within if citizens and leaders don’t actively defend it. On the other hand, it offers us historical knowledge as a tool of resistance: recognizing the signs in time (the “feathers plucked” one by one from the chicken of freedom) can help react before the last feather is removed. In 1933 Germany or 1925 Italy, perhaps few fully understood that the end of democracy was imminent — in hindsight it’s clear, but at the time many hoped it was a transitory or controllable phenomenon. Today we have foresight, because history provides it to us on a silver platter: Trump’s rhetorical tools, power strategies, and politics of hatred have well-documented precedents in past totalitarian regimes, and we also know the terrible consequences they led to. It’s up to today’s society to decide whether to passively undergo this course or act to divert it. Ultimately, as an adage dear to historians goes, “history teaches, but has few students.” Let’s hope that in this case there are many students, so that 2026 doesn’t have to transform into a new 1933. History is not written in advance: understanding the parallel gives us the chance to break it, preserving American democracy from the fate that befell those of Europe a century ago.
Sources
- Richard J. Evans, “A new reich? Donald Trump poses a threat to American democracy…”, Prospect Magazine, May 2025
- Matthew W. Finkin, “The ‘Seizure of Power’ 2025: An Historical Reflection”, Justia, June 2025
- Anne Applebaum, “Trump Is Speaking Like Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini”, The Atlantic, October 2024
- David E. Gumpert, “The Uncanny Resemblance of the Beer Hall Putsch and January 6”, The Nation, January 2022
- Jason Stanley (philosopher) quoted in Milwaukee Independent, “Weaponizing identity: Trump’s undocumented registry requirement parallels Nazi-era laws”, April 2025
- The Guardian, “The reich stuff – what does Trump really have in common with Hitler?”, June 2024
- Wikipedia (en), “Donald Trump and fascism” — section on parallels with Mussolini and Hitler
- Other minor sources and archival materials cited in the text, to contextualize the historical parallel
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