Well, strap in folks, because the “Make America Great Again” time machine has taken us on a whirlwind journey back to 1939, when another authoritarian-admiring NYC crowd gathered ‘round under the banners of American patriotism and family values for an old-fashioned fascist rally. If you peered into the smokey haze at Madison Square Garden on that fateful night, you may have spotted the ghost of rallies future - a bellicose billionaire barnstorming his way through libel lawsuits and criminal probes to fire up a base hungry for the good old days of unchecked tyranny.
But I’m getting ahead of myself faster than a Proud Boy chasing after a vegan. Let’s set the scene: the date is February 20th, 1939. The venue? Good ol’ MSG, the self-proclaimed “world’s most famous arena.” And the headliner? The German American Bund, a Nazi-aligned group of Hitler stans determined to keep the dreams of the Third Reich alive on American soil.
As audiences streamed in, the arena took on an unsettlingly familiar vibe. Swastikas dangled nearby an enormous portrait of George Washington, apparently unaware of the ridiculousness of cozying up to the Father of Our Country. By the time the house lights dimmed, some 20,000 eager fans packed their way in, pinning on armbands and sieg heiling to their hearts’ content. Outside, the atmosphere was less genial - 50,000 protesters braved the streets, clashing with police to make their anti-fascist voices heard.
But inside MSG, the Bund’s leader Fritz Kuhn whipped his followers into a nationalistic frenzy, railing against Jewish conspiracies and immigrant invaders eroding America’s purity. His vitriolic vision? A country cleansed of “unassimilable aliens” and reclaimed by its rightful white Christian heirs.
Now cue the jump scare music as we fast-forward 85 years. That same arena has become a frequent stomping ground for an eerily similar movement helmed by none other than the Mar-a-Lago Mussolini himself, Donald J. Trump. As Trump struts his way to the podium this year, prepare to hear an encore performance of Kuhn’s greatest authoritarian hits - it’s the same old song, just screamed through a brighter shade of red baseball cap.
From “America First” isolationism to promises of immigrant expulsions, the through-line of festering xenophobia remains crisp as a tiki torch. Whereas the ‘39 rally blasted Jewish scapegoats, this year’s MAGA rally singles out Hispanics for speaking Spanish while brown. Trump’s fever dream? An America restored to the lily-white dominance of yesteryear, with menacing caravans halted by a militarized border wall patrolled by the star-spangled stormtroopers of ICE and the National Guard.
And the crowd goes wild! As Trump’s faithful roar their approval, that familiar specter of authoritarianism takes shape once more under the Garden’s rafters. The bells and whistles may have upgraded over the decades, but the song remains the same - a catchy little tune called “Blame the Other Guy for Why Our Superior Way of Life is Threatened.”
Still, the familiar refrains don’t end there. Like any dictator worth his salt, Trump checks Kuhn’s boxes for eroding democratic norms and cozying up to tyrants abroad. We’ve got politicized federal agencies, cries of election fraud before votes are cast, and promises to lock up political opponents. And who could forget that sweet, sweet admiration for iron-fisted rulers like Xi and Putin? Why stick with mere dog whistles when you’ve got a whole symphony of oppression to borrow from abroad!
As we watch this boorish second act unfold, it’s enough to make any freedom-loving American long for an intermission. But the show must go on, and we can’t just rage-quit democracy because one wannabe strongman snuck past the bouncers. Instead, we’ve gotta sober up, strap on our protest shoes, and take to the streets with the same fiery passion as the marchers of ’39.
Their chants may have faded over time, but their mission rings out as clearly as ever: drown out the voices of hate and fearmongering. Call out fascist rhetoric wherever it rears its ugly head. Protect the marginalized, defend democratic values, and seek justice however possible against those who trample ethics and truth under their jackboots.
The ghosts of Garden rallies past have reminded us that the veneers of patriotism and “traditional values” cannot disguise fascism’s rotten core nor legitimize its seductive calls. Its modern-day manifestations may have better production value, but the undercurrent remains the same.
As Trump’s spectacle crescendos towards its closing notes, we must carry forward the lessons of history with clear eyes wide open. Democracy’s survival depends on people willing to take the stage and compose our own choruses of courage in the face of oppression’s din. Though the road ahead promises more encores of bigotry and lies, we cannot and will not bow to tyranny’s tune. This arena belongs to all people, and we’ve got our own song to sing.
