Once again, I feel compelled to write about today’s politics – like in 2017, when Donald Trump wanted to establish armed youth vigilante groups at school. Back then, I compared that attempt to the Hitler Youth. Such vigilante would bring youngsters into the ideological family, and train them on the use of weapons and force among their peers. Thank God, reason prevailed back then. Once again, my education in German history offers a few parallels – the USA is not Germany of the 1930s, most certainly. But nevertheless, history offers sobering lessons about how moments like this can be used to polarize societies and erode democratic norms. And social media about sharing these insights – only time will tell whether these lessons are relevant.
Today, the killing of Charlie Kirk has shaken the United States and is raising urgent questions around how political leaders will respond to acts of violence. At this stage, many facts remain unclear: the location and circumstances are known, but the suspect’s motives have not been fully established. What is clear, however, is that political violence can change the balance of power when it is met with certain kinds of reactions.
In the immediate aftermath of Kirk’s killing, Donald Trump and key members of his administration have rushed to frame the event in partisan terms. Trump has blamed the “radical left” and called for investigations and punishments that go beyond the captured shooter. The State Department has issued warnings to foreign nationals, with officials suggesting that foreigners who praise or make light of the killing could face visa consequences. Deputy Secretary of State Christopher Landau has even asked the public to flag social media posts by foreigners so that action can be taken. Alongside these official statements, there have already been reports of doxxing, social media pressure, and job consequences for people who have expressed criticism or insufficient mourning. These developments deserve close attention, not because they necessarily herald authoritarianism, but because they echo early warning signs from other times and places.
History shows how leaders can use acts of violence to consolidate power. The rise of Adolf Hitler in the Weimar Republic stands as a stark reminder of how political crises gave Hitler openings to justify repression. Most famously, after the Reichstag (parliament) fire in 1933, Hitler blamed communists for a conspiracy and persuaded President Hindenburg to issue an emergency decree suspending civil liberties. The Nazis used the incident to pass the Enabling Act, which gave Hitler the ability to legislate without parliamentary consent and paved the way for the suppression of political parties, trade unions, and the press. Every later assassination attempt, such as the Bürgerbräukeller bombing of 1939 and the July 20, 1944 plot, was likewise exploited to justify more purges, mass arrests, and expanded surveillance. The recipe was simple: immediately attribute blame on an ideological enemy, then create fear and use that fear to expand the powers of the state. While punishing not only the actual perpetrators but anyone whom the regime chose to associated with them.
The current American situation is not equivalent to Nazi Germany, but there are specific warning flags that citizens should watch for. The first is collective attribution before the facts are known. When leaders ascribe responsibility to a broad group—“the radical left,” immigrants, or other political adversaries—before investigators have established a motive, they create an in group versus out group framing that allows them to target entire classes of people rather than individuals. A second danger lies in rhetoric that treats critics or those who question the official response as traitors. Condemning those who fail to display the “proper” level of grief erodes free expression and punishes dissent. Policies that encroach on civil liberties, such as visa revocations for speech or the monitoring of foreigners’ online activity, establishes legal precedents for broader suppression. Politicizing the security apparatus, whether by directing law enforcement or border control against political opponents or rewarding agencies for partisan loyalty, is another sign that democratic safeguards are weakening. Even symbolic measures—public ceremonies, awards, or martyr narratives—can serve to harden a one sided story and mobilize supporters around a sense of existential threat. Harsh reprisals beyond the perpetrator, quick claims of motive without evidence, and an escalation of threat narratives all expand the scope of repression and justify extraordinary measures.
To guard against these dangers, the public and institutions must ask critical questions. Is the government seeking or implementing legal changes that give broader powers in the name of preventing political violence? Are courts, civil rights groups, and the media able to monitor and challenge these policies? Are opposition voices punished for speech rather than actions? Are law enforcement or immigration agencies receiving new mandates that could be abused? Are foreign nationals being penalized for speech in ways that set precedents for how citizens might later be treated? Is the public being presented with a single, simplified narrative too early, before the evidence is in? And are institutions such as universities, media outlets, and civil organizations prepared to defend free expression and due process under political pressure?
At present, many of these warning signs are only signals rather than full blown policy changes. Some are already visible—targeting of speech, social media campaigns, visa warnings, and collective attribution—while others have not yet materialized. That is precisely why vigilance is essential. Media, watchdog groups, courts, and civil society must monitor whether heated rhetoric escalates into concrete actions that erode rights. Transparency in investigations, clarity on what “appropriate action” means, and a steadfast defense of free speech and due process are crucial. Political tragedy should never become a tool for suppression. By asking hard questions now and refusing to accept fear as an excuse for repression, the public can help ensure that this dark moment does not become the opening chapter of something darker still.
This blog does not in any way “make light of” the killing of Charlie Kirk; it treats the event as a grave tragedy and focuses solely on the political responses that follow such violence. The intent is to defend democratic norms and warn of potential abuses, not to diminish the loss of life. Yet it is worth noting that a regime like Hitler’s Germany would almost certainly have interpreted a text like this as an act of hostility against the state, because it questions government narratives, highlights mechanisms of repression, and urges the public to remain vigilant. Under Nazi rule, even sober analysis of government actions was criminalized as subversion, and authors faced censorship or arrest. My concern today is that the current Trump administration, by signalling willingness to punish foreigners for speech around this killing, could likewise choose to view this kind of careful criticism as inappropriate foreign interference rather than protected free expression.
I will not travel to the USA for the time being. I am too fearful that they will construct some “case” based on my open sharing of opinion, and my public writing.
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