Jason Stanley’s How Fascism Works: The Politics of Us and Them

Fascism is often remembered through the lens of history—Hitler’s Germany, Mussolini’s Italy, Franco’s Spain—but its underlying mechanics have never disappeared. In How Fascism Works: The Politics of Us and Them, Yale philosopher Jason Stanley draws a direct line between the propaganda tactics of 20th-century regimes and the political rhetoric shaping today’s democracies. His urgent message: fascism is not a relic of the past—it is a playbook being repurposed in real time.

As democratic institutions face renewed pressures—from nationalist uprisings to state-sponsored misinformation—Stanley offers a critical roadmap for identifying how authoritarianism seeps into everyday life. By combining political theory with historical case studies, he demonstrates how ordinary societies have been seduced by fear, division, and illusion in the past, and warns of how easily it can happen again. In an era defined by polarization and post-truth narratives, How Fascism Works serves as both a warning and a tool for resistance.

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The 10 Pillars of Fascist Politics as Described in Jason Stanley’s How Fascism Works

Stanley’s core argument is that fascism does not arrive with a single event or declaration, but rather, creeps in through a calculated process. He identifies ten recurring political tactics used to divide populations, distort reality, and consolidate power. These pillars are not abstract theories; they are historical patterns that have been repeatedly deployed to justify authoritarian control.

1. The Mythic Past

Fascist movements often begin by invoking a glorified, imaginary version of history—a “golden age” when the nation was supposedly stronger, purer, and more unified. This fabricated past becomes a political weapon, used to stir nostalgia and justify regressive policies under the guise of restoration.

In Nazi Germany, Adolf Hitler romanticized an ethnically “pure” Aryan past that never existed, using it to justify genocidal violence and territorial expansion. In the United States, modern echoes of this tactic can be found in slogans like “Make America Great Again,” which obscure systemic inequality by idealizing a past rooted in racial segregation, gender inequality, and economic disparity. The myth of the American Dream becomes a tool for denying historical and ongoing injustice—particularly against marginalized communities—while labeling calls for equity as dangerous or unpatriotic.

By painting progress—such as civil rights, feminist gains, or LGBTQ+ visibility—as evidence of national decline, this mythic narrative reframes inclusion and justice as threats. It creates a psychological anchor that allows fascist movements to present their reactionary agenda as a necessary return to “order,” when in fact it is a calculated rollback of hard-won rights.

2. Propaganda Over Truth

Fascist regimes rely on emotionally charged propaganda to erode the line between reality and fiction. Rather than argue with facts, they flood the public sphere with falsehoods—repeated loudly and often enough to become familiar, if not believable. Nazi Germany weaponized propaganda through Joseph Goebbels’ Ministry of Public Enlightenment, which used film, posters, and newspapers to depict Jews as enemies of the state. In recent years, authoritarian leaders have increasingly leveraged social media to disseminate disinformation on a large scale. In the United States, the “Stop the Steal” campaign following the 2020 election promoted baseless claims of voter fraud, culminating in the January 6th insurrection. In Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro repeatedly downplayed the severity of COVID-19, spread misinformation about vaccines, and accused journalists of lying, thereby undermining trust in science and the press.

In these systems, truth isn’t debated—it’s denied. The result is a political culture in which fear, identity, and repetition replace evidence, making facts feel optional and undermining the public’s ability to respond to real threats.

3. Anti-Intellectualism

Fascist regimes deliberately discredit scholars, journalists, educators, and scientists—those tasked with questioning power and revealing truth. These figures are often portrayed as elitist, out of touch, or even treasonous, thereby eroding the public’s trust in expertise and critical thinking. In 1930s Germany, the Nazis launched campaigns against “degenerate art” and “Jewish science,” expelling Jewish professors and burning books deemed ideologically impure. Intellectual independence was replaced with state-sanctioned dogma.

In modern times, this playbook remains in effect. In Hungary, Viktor Orbán's government forced Central European University—an internationally respected academic institution—to relocate out of the country after portraying it as a foreign threat to Hungarian values. In the U.S., efforts to ban books, discredit educators, and restrict curriculum around race and gender aim to suppress intellectual freedom and rewrite cultural narratives. During the COVID-19 pandemic, public health officials were vilified, and scientific consensus was politicized, turning vital information into partisan controversy.

By framing intellectuals as threats, fascist movements dismantle the public’s capacity for informed decision-making, leaving citizens more vulnerable to manipulation and authoritarian control.

4. Unreality

Fascist politics thrives not by replacing the truth with a single dominant lie, but by saturating the public sphere with so many falsehoods, distortions, and contradictions that reality itself becomes destabilized. This strategy, often referred to as “firehosing,” overwhelms the public with conflicting narratives, making it nearly impossible to discern what is true, who can be trusted, or which facts are relevant.

The Soviet Union mastered this through disinformation campaigns and censorship, but the strategy has taken on new life in the digital age. In the United States, the rise of QAnon—an elaborate and baseless conspiracy theory—demonstrates how unreality can gain mass traction and disrupt democratic norms. Similarly, Donald Trump’s repeated claim of a “stolen election” despite the absence of credible evidence became a rallying cry for January 6 insurrectionists. The goal was never to convince everyone, but to flood the zone with doubt, so that truth itself became negotiable.

Once objective reality collapses under the weight of distortion, fascist leaders can present themselves as the only trustworthy source of information. In this fog of unreality, loyalty replaces logic, and control becomes easier to maintain.

5. Hierarchical Thinking

Fascist ideologies rely on a rigid social hierarchy that positions certain groups as inherently superior and others as inherently inferior. This thinking is often grounded in race, religion, gender, or nationality, and it serves as the ideological foundation for exclusionary policies, systemic discrimination, and state-sanctioned violence. By convincing the public that some people are “more deserving” of rights or protection than others, fascist movements create a moral justification for inequality.

In Nazi Germany, this hierarchy was explicitly racial: Aryans were deemed the master race, while Jews, Roma, disabled individuals, and others were labeled degenerate and targeted for extermination. In the Jim Crow-era American South, similar ideas upheld racial segregation, voter suppression, and lynching, often under the guise of “maintaining order.”

Today, this ideology continues to surface in policies that vilify immigrants as criminals, Muslims as threats, and LGBTQ+ individuals as societal disruptors. Far-right leaders in Hungary and Poland have openly framed ethnic homogeneity as essential to national survival. In the U.S., “replacement theory”—the baseless fear that minorities will overtake the white population—has inspired mass shooters and mainstream political rhetoric alike.

Hierarchical thinking allows fascist movements to normalize inequality. It reframes oppression as self-preservation, turning justice into a threat and dehumanization into duty.

6. Victimhood as a Weapon

One of the most paradoxical yet powerful tools of fascist politics is the portrayal of dominant or majority groups as victims. Authoritarian leaders invert reality, framing themselves—and their followers—not as the perpetrators of harm but as those under attack. Immigrants, minorities, feminists, journalists, and academics are cast as aggressors who threaten the moral fabric, traditions, or security of the “real” people.

In Nazi Germany, Hitler claimed that Germans were being humiliated by international elites and undermined by Jews, despite Germany's economic and military efforts to dominate Europe. In the Jim Crow South, white supremacists framed civil rights activists as destabilizing agitators, using this false sense of persecution to justify violent crackdowns.

Today, this tactic resurfaces in claims of “reverse racism,” “war on men,” or “cancel culture.” White nationalist movements in the U.S. frequently assert that diversity initiatives and inclusive policies are discriminatory toward white people. In countries like Brazil, Hungary, and the Philippines, populist leaders have rallied support by insisting they—and their majoritarian bases—are being silenced by liberal elites or international conspiracies.

This manufactured victimhood fosters resentment, fuels grievance politics, and provides moral cover for oppressive policies. It encourages followers to see any effort toward equality as an attack—and to respond defensively, even violently, in the name of “self-defense.”

7. Law and Order Obsession

Fascist regimes thrive on the promise of restoring “law and order,” portraying themselves as protectors against chaos, even when they are the source of instability. Dissent, protest, and democratic resistance are reframed as criminal threats, often with racialized or class-based undertones. By conflating calls for justice with violence or anarchy, authoritarian leaders justify surveillance, censorship, and violent policing.

In Nazi Germany, the Reichstag Fire was exploited as a pretext to suspend civil liberties under the guise of national security. In the American South during the Civil Rights Movement, peaceful marches were met with dogs, tear gas, and batons—all under the banner of preserving public order.

This rhetoric resurfaces today in efforts to suppress protest movements like Black Lives Matter or pro-democracy demonstrations abroad. Leaders in the U.S., Brazil, and elsewhere have labeled journalists, activists, and opposition groups as “terrorists” or “thugs,” invoking militarized crackdowns and expanding police powers. Anti-riot laws and sweeping executive orders often follow, eroding constitutional protections.

The obsession with “order” masks a deeper agenda: to silence opposition, consolidate control, and erode civil liberties under the comforting illusion of safety.

8. Sexual Anxiety

Fascist politics often weaponize fear around gender roles and sexuality to reinforce patriarchal dominance and social conformity. Movements toward gender equality, LGBTQ+ rights, or reproductive autonomy are framed not as progress but as threats to national purity, moral order, and the traditional family. This anxiety becomes a tool to mobilize outrage and justify regressive policies.

In Nazi Germany, queer people were persecuted under Paragraph 175, with the regime branding homosexuality as degenerate and incompatible with the Aryan ideal of masculinity. Similarly, the fascist Franco regime in Spain promoted rigid gender roles and punished women who stepped outside prescribed norms, tying femininity to obedience, motherhood, and silence.

Today, this rhetoric resurfaces in anti-trans legislation, “don’t say gay” education bans, and attacks on reproductive rights. Politicians stoke panic over gender-inclusive restrooms, drag performances, or sex education, often claiming to be protecting children or preserving “traditional values.” In truth, these measures aim to police bodies and identities, using sexuality as a wedge issue to consolidate power and distract from systemic injustice.

By invoking fears of emasculation or cultural decay, fascist leaders recast social progress as existential threat—pitting personal freedom against a false ideal of national survival.

9. Rural Idealism vs. Urban Decay

Fascist politics often elevate the countryside as the heartland of national virtue—pure, hardworking, and morally upright—while demonizing cities as dens of corruption, foreign influence, and moral decline. This strategic dichotomy portrays rural life as authentic and patriotic, while urban spaces are perceived as being contaminated by multiculturalism, liberalism, and dissent.

Historically, leaders like Mussolini and Hitler leaned heavily on agrarian symbolism, portraying rural farmers as the backbone of the nation and urban intellectuals or minorities as threats to national unity. The Nazis glorified the "blood and soil" ideal, linking racial purity to rural life while condemning cities like Berlin as decadent and degenerate.

Today, this narrative resurfaces in modern populist rhetoric that disparages “urban elites,” “coastal liberals,” or “woke cities.” Political campaigns often target urban policies around diversity, education, and policing, painting metropolitan areas as out of touch or dangerous, while championing rural identity as synonymous with national pride. The rural-urban divide becomes not just geographic, but ideological—a tool for sowing division and discrediting progressive movements that often originate in urban centers.

By framing cities as hostile to traditional values, fascist rhetoric isolates dissenting voices, undermines trust in inclusive governance, and reinforces an “us versus them” mentality that fuels polarization and cultural regression.

10. Merit Through Suffering

In fascist politics, suffering is rebranded as a moral test—only those who endure without complaint are deemed deserving. Compassion is reframed as indulgence, and systemic support is vilified as enabling weakness. Those who struggle—immigrants, the poor, the disabled—are cast not as victims of inequity but as threats to national strength or productivity.

Historically, fascist regimes have glorified hardship as a purifying force. Under Mussolini, self-sacrifice for the state was idealized, and welfare was reserved for those deemed contributors to the fascist vision. Similarly, Nazi propaganda depicted disabled individuals and the unemployed as societal burdens, leading to horrific eugenic policies under the guise of restoring national health.

In contemporary politics, this mindset persists in attacks on public assistance, food stamps, housing subsidies, or healthcare, often accompanied by narratives implying that aid recipients are freeloaders. Language like “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” or “makers vs. takers” reinforces a moral hierarchy where worth is earned through toil and obedience, not through shared humanity or structural equity.

By framing support systems as signs of decadence, fascist rhetoric fuels stigma, justifies austerity, and widens social divides. It punishes vulnerability and discourages collective care, demanding suffering as proof of merit and obedience as the price of dignity.

These tactics work in concert, creating a narrative that pits a morally righteous “us” against a dehumanized “them.” Once established, this logic justifies censorship, cruelty, and the erosion of democratic norms under the guise of national restoration.

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The Growing Relevance of Jason Stanley’s How Fascism Works

Fascism doesn’t begin with a military coup or a dictator’s rise overnight—it seeps in gradually, often disguised as patriotism, tradition, or national security. Jason Stanley’s How Fascism Works is especially urgent today, as democracies around the world face escalating threats from within. From the January 6th Capitol insurrection in the United States to the erosion of judicial independence in countries like Hungary, India, and Israel, recent events show how quickly democratic institutions can be manipulated to serve authoritarian ends.

History offers countless warnings: in 1930s Germany, Hitler exploited fears of economic collapse and national humiliation to normalize scapegoating and centralized control. In Rwanda, radio propaganda fueled ethnic hatred with coded language and dehumanization, leading to genocide. And in modern Myanmar, digital disinformation played a central role in justifying mass violence against the Rohingya population.

Today, political leaders across the globe are reviving these same strategies—framing journalists as enemies of the people, celebrating violence against dissenters, and dismissing entire segments of the population as corrupt or subhuman. Algorithms amplify polarizing rhetoric, media ecosystems create alternate realities, and laws once designed to protect civil liberties are quietly repurposed to suppress them.

The power of Stanley’s argument lies in its insistence that fascist politics thrives not only through brute force, but through everyday choices: whose suffering is ignored, whose voices are silenced, and which lies we begin to accept as truth. This is not a distant problem—it’s a slow erosion happening now, in school board meetings, on televised debates, in courtrooms, and across social media feeds.

Understanding the mechanics of fascist politics isn’t just about studying the past—it’s about recognizing the warning signs in the present, so we can protect what remains of democracy before it's too late.

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Stanley’s Scholarly Analysis is a Modern-Day Wake-Up Call

How Fascism Works serves as both a diagnosis of past authoritarian regimes and a mirror to the present. Jason Stanley doesn’t offer abstract theory; he lays bare the real, repeatable tactics that, when left unchecked, can turn democratic erosion into collapse. From book bans sweeping across American school districts to the normalization of surveillance, voter suppression laws, and state-sanctioned disinformation, the warning signs are no longer hypothetical—they’re happening in real time.

Stanley’s central message is clear: fascism does not need tanks in the streets to succeed. It advances through language—through politicians who label the press “the enemy,” accuse opponents of treason, and build loyalty not through policy, but through shared grievance and scapegoating. It grows when we allow fear to override fact, and when civic fatigue silences those who know better.

This book is essential reading for anyone who senses the democratic ground shifting beneath their feet but can’t quite name why. It explains how small cultural concessions can lead to significant political consequences, and how silence, cynicism, or “staying out of politics” is itself a form of participation in the decay.

How Fascism Works is not just about what has happened, but also about what could and has the very real potential to occur. At its core, it arms readers with something more potent than outrage: understanding. In an era of deep polarization and institutional distrust, Stanley offers not despair but direction. Recognizing the playbook is the first defense. Choosing to act is the next step.