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Fascism is here, but we can win. United.
April 19,2025
The rise of Donald Trump’s political movement represents one of the gravest threats to American democracy in modern history. From his first campaign to his current efforts to entrench power, Trump has demonstrated an open hostility to democratic norms, a disdain for the rule of law, and a willingness to use the machinery of government to punish enemies and reward loyalists. This isn’t just about partisan politics or ideological differences anymore. This is about the corrosion of democracy and the rise of fascism in America.
Fascism does not arrive all at once. It creeps in under the guise of patriotism, cloaked in slogans, legitimized by courts, and excused by politicians who fear political consequences more than moral failure. The threat grows when people look the other way. And that is what we’re seeing today, a widespread normalization of behavior that would have once been unthinkable.
Trump has not hidden his intentions. He has praised authoritarian leaders, proposed the mass deportation of millions, promised to use the Department of Justice to target political enemies, and declared that the Constitution should be “terminated” if it gets in his way. His campaign rallies echo fascist rhetoric, built around a cult of personality, scapegoating of marginalized groups, and promises of retribution.
During Trump’s first term, his administration’s policies tore at the foundations of democratic governance. Children were taken from their parents at the border and kept in cages. And it is even worse now. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) are operating like a rogue paramilitary force, rounding up individuals from homes, hospitals, and schools without warrants or accountability. Unknown numbers of people have, and continue to, simply disappeared into a vast detention network, many never returning.
The term “deportation” has lost all legal and moral meaning. These are not removals through due process. They are erasures, targeted, cruel, and intentional. Legal residents and even U.S. citizens have been swept up, detained, and forced to prove their right to exist in their own country. Some ICE agents have been seen handcuffing third graders and dragging people from hospital beds. This isn’t enforcement. It is state-sponsored terror.
This cruelty isn’t the byproduct of poor policy, it is the policy. Trump and his allies believe fear will serve as deterrence. But the reality is it creates a regime of fear and silence. It stokes xenophobia, normalizes authoritarian tactics, and shatters families. And it sends a clear message: if you are not loyal, you are not safe.
Even members of his own party have shown they understand the danger, and few dare to speak up. At a recent town hall, a Republican senator from Alaska, Lisa Murkowski, admitted she was afraid of retribution from Trump and his base if she opposed him too publicly. That fear is part of the problem. Fear silences dissent, even among those with power. And it allows authoritarianism to fester unchecked.
The machinery behind him is no less frightening. His allies are rewriting laws to restrict voting rights, criminalize dissent, and undermine independent institutions. Project 2025 is no longer just a blueprint, it is already being implemented in rhetoric, policy proposals, and personnel decisions across the conservative movement. Spearheaded by far-right think tanks and Trump-aligned operatives, it lays out a detailed plan to dismantle the federal bureaucracy, eliminate checks on executive power, and install ideological loyalists in every corner of government. From replacing civil servants with partisan actors to ending the independence of the Department of Justice, it reflects a deliberate strategy to concentrate power and suppress dissent. Project 2025 is not an abstract threat, it’s the scaffolding of a fascist state, being quietly built in plain sight. Trump has made it clear he intends to rule, not govern. He will not be constrained by norms, traditions, or even the Constitution.
Trump’s regime, in practice and in ideology, aligns with many of the historical hallmarks of fascism: the glorification of violence, the undermining of the press, the demonization of “the other,” and the consolidation of executive power. His administration has empowered law enforcement to act with impunity. His allies in Congress now talk openly about ending birthright citizenship, reviving internment-style detentions, and using the military for domestic crackdowns.
The judiciary has begun to enable this slide. Supreme Court rulings in recent years have chipped away at voting rights, expanded presidential immunity, and declined to check executive overreach. In the hands of a leader like Trump, these precedents become weapons, not guardrails. His second term, already unfolding in political and cultural arenas, shows even less regard for accountability. The most recent Supreme Court decision, with a 9-0 opinion that finally tried to put some limits on his disappearances, has simply been ignored.
This is how democracies die, not with a single coup, but with a slow erosion of checks and balances, a steady drumbeat of fear, and the retreat of civic courage. What makes Trump’s movement particularly dangerous is that it is not limited to him. It has taken root across the Republican Party, in state legislatures, on school boards, and in the rhetoric of media personalities who amplify hate, misinformation, and outright lies.
But history shows us that these movements can be stopped. Fascist regimes have fallen before. Not easily, and not quickly, but through organized resistance, collective action, and unwavering solidarity.
In Chile, mass protests helped bring an end to Pinochet’s brutal regime. In the Philippines, the People Power Revolution removed Ferdinand Marcos through a massive show of unity and civil disobedience. In Eastern Europe, the Velvet Revolution ended decades of communist authoritarianism through peaceful resistance and the wall came down. South Africa’s apartheid system collapsed under the weight of sustained domestic opposition and international solidarity.
In the United States, the Civil Rights Movement dismantled Jim Crow through strategic protest, legal action, and moral clarity. Women fought for the vote and later for reproductive rights through organizing and persistent advocacy. More recently, movements like Black Lives Matter, the Women’s March, and March for Our Lives have shown that protest can still move the political needle.
These victories are not the result of individual heroes, but of collective courage. They came from people refusing to be silent in the face of injustice, from ordinary citizens stepping into the streets, into courtrooms, into schools, and into politics to demand something better.
That is what we must do now. Because the threat is not going away on its own. Trump and his enablers are counting on our exhaustion, our cynicism, our despair. They want us to believe it’s too late and that nothing we do matters. That is the lie authoritarians tell. And it is the lie we must reject.
We must organize. We must march. We must vote. We must protect each other. We must support independent journalism, uphold truth, and challenge propaganda. We must create communities of resistance in our neighborhoods, our workplaces, our online spaces, and our families.
We must also refuse to accept “normal” when it is anything but. The disappearance of immigrants is not normal. The imprisonment of journalists is not normal. The open threats to jail political opponents are not normal. These are signs of a fascist regime taking shape, and we must call them what they are.
There is still hope. The American people have risen up before. We’ve faced down tyrants, overcome corruption, and expanded democracy through sheer will. But this moment demands more of us. It demands urgency. It demands unity. And it demands belief, not just in the idea of democracy, but in our power to defend it.
Authoritarianism feeds on fear and division. Democracy flourishes with courage and solidarity. The choice is ours. If we act now, together, we still have a chance to preserve this fragile experiment. If we hesitate, we may not get another.
The future is unwritten. Let’s write it together. In protest, in unity, and in hope.
