Lately, the noise on the left–right divide is so loud you can’t scroll two minutes without someone hurling a word like communist, socialist, or fascist like it’s a dodgeball. Problem is, most of the time people don’t even know what they’re saying. And when I use the word fascist, people come charging in with, “That’s extreme. Aren’t you just slapping that label on anyone you disagree with?”

No. I’m not. Words matter. If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it’s probably not a golden retriever.

What Fascism Actually Means

Here’s the technical term: palingenetic ultranationalism. Yeah, try saying that five times fast without dislocating your jaw. It sounds ridiculous, but all it means is “national rebirth.” At its core, fascism is obsessed with the idea that the nation was once pure and strong, then became humiliated or weakened, and now must be reborn through some glorious nationalist movement.

That movement rejects compromise, mocks reform, and insists it alone can return us to the mythical golden age. And here’s the kicker: fascism isn’t a government system, it’s a style of politics. A process. It usually begins with protest movements promising to “restore” the nation and ends in violence, camps, and authoritarian control.

Patterns, Not Parties

Throughout history, people across the spectrum have resisted fascism. Winston Churchill, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and countless others pushed back hard. The problem isn’t that one group “owns” fascism — the problem is that fear and resentment make people vulnerable to it.

Fascism doesn’t need everyone to sign up. It just needs enough people too scared of change, too nostalgic for the “good old days,” or too willing to believe that “outsiders” are the problem. Those fears become the crack in the door. Once opened, extremists don’t politely wipe their feet — they barge in and rearrange the furniture.

Fear Is the Gateway Drug

Here’s where the contradiction shows. If LGBTQ+ people were being rounded up into camps tomorrow, plenty of folks would step up and hide them in basements, convinced they were on the right side of history. But what they wouldn’t want to admit is that years earlier, they’d laughed at the bathroom jokes, nodded along with the scapegoating, or shrugged when rights were stripped away.

That’s how fascism sneaks in. Not with a marching band and armbands on day one, but through paranoia, “family values” dogwhistles, and the constant drumbeat that someone is out to get you. By the time it becomes obvious, it’s already too late.

Call It What It Is

Fascism is always about purity, unity, and rebirth. It feeds on fear and thrives on coercion. When leaders start ranting about “replacement,” calling immigrants “invaders,” or obsessing over “internal enemies,” it’s not just politics-as-usual. It’s the same script fascists have been using for a century.

And when I see it, I call it fascism. Not as an insult, not as partisan mudslinging, but as accuracy.