DAY 2: How It Starts — The Conditions That Make It Possible

When people think about authoritarian regimes, they often think about how they end—violence, oppression, and destruction. What is far less discussed is how they begin.

In the aftermath of World War I, Germany was not a country primed for extremism in the way we tend to imagine. It was a country in crisis. Citizens were grappling with economic collapse, soaring unemployment, political instability, and a deep sense of national humiliation following the Treaty of Versailles. According to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Germans were struggling “to understand their country’s uncertain future,” while the Nazi Party gained support by offering “simple solutions… exploiting people’s fears, frustrations, and hopes.” What made this moment so pivotal was not just the hardship itself, but the emotional environment it created—one in which people felt ignored, disillusioned, and desperate for change.

Adolf Hitler did not rise to power by introducing complexity. He rose to power by simplifying it. He told people that their suffering had a cause, that their struggles were not their fault, and that he alone could restore the nation to greatness. It was not a message rooted in policy detail—it was rooted in recognition. People felt seen. They felt validated. And that connection mattered more than anything else.

A similar dynamic can be observed in the United States leading up to the 2016 election, though the circumstances were not identical. In the years following the 2008 financial crisis, many Americans experienced growing economic insecurity, rising inequality, and a declining trust in government institutions. Political polarization deepened, and public discourse increasingly reflected a belief that the system was not working for ordinary people. As political scientist Katherine Cramer has explained, support for Donald Trump was not simply about ideology, but about a “politics of resentment,” in which individuals who felt overlooked or left behind were drawn to a candidate who acknowledged their frustration and promised to fight on their behalf.

Trump’s messaging closely followed this pattern. His repeated assertions that the system was “rigged” and his claim that “I alone can fix it” mirrored a familiar structure: identify the problem, validate the grievance, and position oneself as the singular solution. Like many leaders before him, his appeal was not rooted solely in policy proposals, but in emotional resonance. He spoke directly to people who felt disconnected from traditional political institutions, offering a narrative that explained their circumstances in clear and compelling terms.

What is most important to understand is that these movements do not begin with malicious intent from the general public. They do not begin because people want authoritarianism. They begin because people want stability, opportunity, and a sense that their lives can improve. The danger lies not in those desires, but in how they can be leveraged.

History shows us that the early stages of authoritarian shifts are often indistinguishable from ordinary political change. They are marked by frustration, by distrust, and by the emergence of leaders who promise to restore what has been lost. At this stage, nothing appears extreme. In fact, it often feels like the opposite—it feels like hope.

And that is precisely why it is so important to pay attention to how it starts.

Tomorrow, I’ll move into what happens next: how power is built, who is placed into positions of authority, and why loyalty begins to matter more than expertise.

Day 3 - Who Holds Power, Loyalty, Expertise, and Control