“When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross.” Sinclair Lewis
As my family and I stood in the shadow of Nuremberg’s colossal rally grounds on New Year’s Day 2017 - just days before Trump’s first inauguration - these words from the Nobel Prize-winning novelist echoed louder than the ghosts of history. The Documentation Center at the Nazi Party Rally Grounds is no mere museum. It is a stark warning etched in concrete and silence. Here, amid the ruins of Albert Speer’s grand architecture designed to awe and intimidate, the story of how fascism took root in 1920s and 1930s Germany unfolds like a blueprint for our times.
The Center’s mission is unflinching: to show how ordinary people, step by step, abandoned their humanity and enabled extraordinary evil. It forces visitors to confront the uncomfortable truth that fascism doesn’t announce itself with monster rallies - it begins with small compromises, coded language, and the normalisation of hate.
Economic despair, scapegoating of minorities, the slow erosion of democracy, and the complicity of corporations and media. These were not anomalies. They were the machinery of control.
Why This Matters: A Lifelong Fight for Fairness and Justice
It was my German-born husband who intentionally took our family to the Documentation Center that New Year’s Day in 2017, to show our children exactly why this must never happen again. Standing there together, the weight of those ruins was chilling, a visceral reminder of how fragility turns to horror when vigilance falters.
My husband’s family hid Jewish neighbours during the war, their quiet acts of defiance a thread of humanity amid the Nazi nightmare. My great-great-grandparents fled European pogroms to build lives in Australia, only for my maternal grandfather to fight those same fascist forces in the jungles of Papua New Guinea. My childhood neighbour survived two years in a German POW camp, his scars a living testament to ideology’s poison.
These stories, like many of us, are my inheritance: an unshakeable vigilance that has driven my life-long fight against fascism and all its toxic elements - bigotry, sexism, misogyny, racism, homophobia, transphobia, antisemitism, xenophobia, and religious extremism. Because when we allow any of these hatreds to fester unchallenged, we water the soil where fascism takes root.
That is why I continue to lay out this side-by-side comparison: to show the urgency for all of us to actively participate in stopping this, rather than standing by and watching as fascism spreads across democratic nations. As I tweeted from Nuremberg in 2017, the parallels to Trump’s rise were undeniable then. They scream today as authoritarianism advances globally.
Sinclair Lewis: The Prophet Who Saw It Coming
When Nobel Prize-winning author Sinclair Lewis penned those words in 1935, fascism was on the march across Europe. Lewis, the first American to win the Nobel Prize for Literature, understood that authoritarianism doesn’t arrive with jackboots and obvious tyranny. In his prescient novel It Can’t Happen Here, he showed how fascism seduces through patriotic rhetoric and religious symbolism, appealing to people’s fears and economic anxieties.
Lewis’s fictional dictator, Buzz Windrip, rose to power not through violent revolution but through the ballot box, promising to restore “traditional values” while scapegoating minorities and the press. The novel describes “the rise of Berzelius ‘Buzz’ Windrip, a demagogue who is elected President of the United States, after fomenting fear and promising drastic economic and social reforms while promoting a return to patriotism and ‘traditional’ values.” Sound familiar?
Lewis’s warning resonates powerfully today because he understood fascism’s psychological appeal. As former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright observed: “This is how the tentacles of Fascism spread inside a democracy. Unlike a monarchy or a military dictatorship imposed on society from above, Fascism draws energy from men and women who are upset because of a lost war, a lost job, a memory of humiliation, or a sense that their country is in steep decline.”
Lewis’ insights help us recognise the patterns before it’s too late.
The Australian Warning: Christo-Fascism at Our Doorstep
Australia is not immune to these same forces. Liberal MP Andrew Hastie’s recent comments that high immigration has made Australians feel like “strangers in their own homes” echo the nationalist rhetoric Lewis warned against. Hastie, a member of the National Right faction and described as advocating positions informed by his Christian religion, has abstained from same-sex marriage votes “on religious grounds” and was photographed at a 2018 rally supporting white South African farmers, where he had encounters with far-right activist Neil Erikson.
As one political commentator noted, Hastie’s recent social media presence has been “decidedly Trumpian,” with posts attacking “unsustainable” immigration using “provocative” language with “obvious overtones.” This represents exactly the kind of Christian nationalist infiltration of mainstream conservative politics that Lewis depicted in his novel.
The danger isn’t just fringe neo-Nazis at protests (though groups like Thomas Sewell’s National Socialist Network remain active). It’s the normalisation of christo-fascist rhetoric within established political parties, where “fascism concerns itself less with specific policies than with finding a pathway to power.”
The Fascist Playbook: Then and Now
Fascists are not content to whisper in the shadows. They are railroading our protests, hijacking marches, and sowing division to seize power. Just look at the recent “March for Australia” anti-immigration rallies in Melbourne’s CBD, where neo-Nazis and white supremacists openly endorsed the events, turning what some saw as legitimate concerns into a platform for hate.
Thousands marched under flags draped in bigotry, with violent clashes erupting as far-right agitators infiltrated the crowds, forcing counter-protesters (including Indigenous activists defending sacred sites) into defensive stands. As The Age reported, these were not spontaneous outbursts but calculated takeovers, with neo-Nazi leader Thomas Sewell parading openly, a chilling echo of the unchecked rallies that once filled Nuremberg’s fields.
We cannot let this take hold here. Not on our streets, not in our democracy.
The Mirror of History: 1930s Germany vs 2025 America
To make this crystal clear, let us lay it out side by side. The Documentation Center teaches us to spot the patterns of fascism: how ordinary people, gripped by fear and apathy, enabled extraordinary horror. Below is a comparison drawn from those lessons, pitting 1930s Germany against the unfolding crisis in the US, and elsewhere.
See it for yourself. Recognise it. Then act.
These are not abstract history lessons. They are mirrors.
The Modern Fascist Toolkit
The Documentation Center’s lessons extend to today’s digital shadows, where fascism wields tools unimaginable in the 1930s. While the core playbook remains (division, spectacle, erosion), modern authoritarians have supercharged it with technology. Here’s what we must watch:
Algorithmic Amplification and Echo Chambers: Unlike Hitler’s radio speeches reaching passive listeners, today’s platforms like X and Facebook use algorithms to trap users in radicalising bubbles, making the online world “much more fascist than real life” and accelerating recruitment.
Disinformation via AI and Deepfakes: Fabricated videos and bot-driven lies spread virally, eroding trust faster than printed propaganda ever could, as seen in election interference mimicking but outpacing 1930s myths.
Cyber Harassment and Doxxing: Far-right networks use the web for targeted intimidation, doxxing activists or journalists to silence dissent. A scalpel of fear where 1930s stormtroopers wielded clubs.
Global Technocratic Alliances: Tech oligarchs like Musk forge international fascist networks, funding cross-border campaigns in ways industrialists of the 1930s could only dream, blending surveillance capitalism with authoritarian control.
Online Radicalisation Pipelines: Gamified apps and forums funnel isolated individuals into extremism, passive grooming absent in the era of physical rallies, turning loneliness into loyalty at scale.
These innovations demand updated resistance: digital literacy, platform accountability, and counter-narratives that pierce the screens.
The Power of People: Fighting Back
Franklin D. Roosevelt understood the threat when he warned: “The liberty of a democracy is not safe if the people tolerated the growth of private power to a point where it becomes stronger than the democratic state itself. That in its essence is fascism: ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or any controlling private power.”
In the US, Project 2025 is the fascist playbook in print: a 900-page roadmap to dismantle checks and balances, backed by the Heritage Foundation and amplified by Trump’s allies. It promises to fire thousands of civil servants, surveil opponents, and prioritise “Christian nationalism” over pluralism. Sound familiar? Nuremberg’s archives show how such “reforms” crushed opposition overnight.
Here in Australia, groups like Advance Australia and Repeal the Teal peddle disinformation against independents, mirroring the NSDAP’s early tactics. The LNP’s flirtations with divisive rhetoric only embolden them.
But we are not powerless.
The solution to defeating fascism begins with people power: every conversation, every collaboration, every vigilant act. Remember the Disney boycott? Tens of thousands unsubscribed in solidarity with workers and against corporate censorship, wiping $4 billion from their share price overnight. That is the might of the many.
Corporations endorsing fascism are cowards, addicted to short-term gains, but they crumble under collective pressure. We saw it mobilise 120,000 for March4Justice in 2021, turning grief over violence against women into a roar for change. We can do it again.
As former US Vice President Henry A. Wallace warned in the 1940s: “A fascist is one whose lust for money or power is combined with such an intensity of intolerance toward those of other races, parties, classes, religions, cultures, regions or nations as to make him ruthless in his use of deceit or violence to attain his ends.”
This definition captures exactly what we’re seeing unfold globally.
Your Antifascist Toolkit: From Silence to Action
How do we show up? Start small, build fierce. This is your antifascist toolkit, not a dusty manual, but living steps forged from Nuremberg’s vigilance and my own battles, from co-founding Voices for Goldstein to surviving death threats for calling out hate in 2022.
Seed the Soil: Everyday Vigilance
Speak in the Silence: Next pub chat veering into “immigrant blame”? Interrupt gently: “That’s not the full picture. Let’s talk facts.” Conversations disarm propaganda before it roots.
Learn and Share: Read Timothy Snyder’s On Tyranny or revisit Nuremberg’s online exhibits. Then text a mate: “This bit on 1930s rallies? Spot on for today’s marches.” Knowledge shared is fascism starved.
Boost the Voiceless: Amplify Palestinian voices on Gaza, Ukrainian stories of resistance, or Indigenous reports from those recent Melbourne clashes. Your share is solidarity.
Bridge the Gap: Community Action
Host the Huddle: Organise a kitchen table conversations and backyard talks on “Spotting Fascist Tactics Down Under”. Invite neighbours, sceptics included. Discomfort breeds allies.
Hands-On Help: Join anti-hate vigils or refugee aid groups. As my grandfather did in PNG, your presence disrupts the isolation fascists crave.
Pressure the Powerful: Email your MP about far-right rally permits or corporate funders of division. Boycott the enablers. Your wallet votes louder than words - one unsubscription at a time
Storm the Gates: Bold Resistance
March and Mobilise: Counter the hijacked rallies with your own. Link Gaza solidarity to anti-fascist stands. Bodies in the street, like Nuremberg’s would-be resisters, shift tides.
Fund the Fight: Back poltical candidates who champion ethics over extremism. Crowdfund legal challenges to disinformation groups.
Live the Defiance: Build diverse networks, ethical businesses, art that exposes lies. Embody the Australia we deserve, free from corporate cowards and rally hijackers.
The Choice Is Ours
Australians, the Nuremberg Centre’s mission is clear: eternal vigilance against apathy. Fascism reveals the cowards (the silent boards, the fear-mongering pollies, the algorithm overlords), but it also reveals us: resilient, collaborative, unbreakable when we connect.
The dawn awaits. Start that conversation today. Leap into action tomorrow. Because fascism does not fall to the flawless. It crumbles before the ordinary united.
How will you show up? Share below. Let us build this together.
You know what to do.
Onward we press
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Fabulous piece, and so, so timely.
A (very old) German friend who was a young girl during the war told me that what she sees in America now, is the closest to what she saw in 1930s Germany. She would know: she’s seen both.
Thanks. Good work.