Throw ‘Nazi’ and ‘fascist’ around without true meaning, it normalises the unthinkable

Eichmann trial: Dilute 'Nazi' and we may not recognise true evil when we see it again (Photo by Central Press/Getty Images)

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The aftermath of the alleged “Nazi salute” of Elon Musk highlights an alarming phenomenon: The casual application of labels like “Nazi” or “fascist” — no matter how unfounded — runs the risk of desensitising society to what these terms really denote. The more we hurl such accusations around, the more we build a world where true evil is potentially normalised.

Importantly, in Musk’s case, ADL, a major Jewish group and antisemitism watchdog, ruled that his “awkward” gesture was not a Nazi salute, but this did not seem to bother progressive and liberal accusers. For many, a photograph, a gesture, or a statement can serve as a prime opportunity for virtue signalling by tagging someone with the gravest of historical insults.

Yet we should ask: Have we watered down the significance of these terms so much that calling someone a “fascist” or a “Nazi” no longer carries the weight it once did? To some, it might seem like an easy shortcut to delegitimise an opponent, but the continuous use of such labels is beginning to drain them of their real meaning, transforming them into empty epithets.

When these terms were first applied, they described specific political movements and ideologies. The Nazis, led by Adolf Hitler, were responsible for orchestrating the genocide of millions in the Holocaust. Fascism, coined by Mussolini in Italy, heralded a total authoritarianism. To accuse someone of being a “Nazi” or a “fascist” was once a very specific thing.

Today one only needs to criticize illegal immigration, oppose liberal movements, or express a preference for national sovereignty to be swiftly branded as a “fascist.” So when someone like Elon Musk, a figure as controversial as he is influential, allegedly makes a gesture reminiscent of the Nazi era, many rush to call him a Nazi without fully considering the gravity of the claim.

When you label everyone who disagrees with you, or dares to challenge the prevailing orthodoxy, as a fascist, you risk making the term as banal as a passing insult. The tragedy is that this undermines our ability to recognise actual threats when they arise — or even worse, that it may render such terms attractive to uneducated masses who oppose the status quo.

To better understand how the trivialisation of terms like “Nazi” and “fascist” contributes to the erosion of meaning, it would be useful to consult Hannah Arendt’s pivotal work, The Origins of Totalitarianism. Arendt, a German-American scholar of Jewish descent, was deeply concerned with the mechanics of evil — how it could emerge in societies that are otherwise civilized.

In her later work, The Banality of Evil, she analysed the trial of Adolf Eichmann, one of the key architects of the Holocaust, offering a chilling conclusion: Eichmann was a rather ordinary bureaucrat who became complicit in hideous acts through thoughtlessness and blind adherence to authority. In her eyes, the real danger does not necessarily lie in the most monstrous figures, but in everyday people who turn a blind eye to atrocities or participate in them without reflection.

What Arendt described was the phenomenon of evil being normalized through bureaucracy, institutional power, mass communication and abdication of moral responsibility. In today’s context, when terms like “Nazi” or “fascist” are thrown around without real meaning, we begin to normalise what should remain unthinkable.

The warning is clear: Evil is not just about dangerous leaders. It is also about a society that stops recognising the lines between good and evil. Once we stop being shocked by evil, we stop acting to resist it. The worst consequence of this is that we may not recognize true evil when faced with it again.

Therefore, the overuse of terms like “Nazi” and “fascist” doesn’t just dilute their meaning — it makes it easier for real totalitarianism to take root in a society that is no longer attuned to the signs of its rise, as the language of oppression and violence no longer inspires disgust. This is a dangerous game to play, for once we lose the ability to recognize true extremism, we also lose the tools to fight it.

In a world where the line between truth and exaggeration is often blurred, it becomes increasingly difficult to distinguish between those who merely hold unpopular views, or challenge political correctness, and those who genuinely seek to dismantle democratic institutions.

History teaches us that evil does not always arrive with dramatic fanfare. Sometimes, it comes quietly, disguised as an ordinary circumstance. If we continue to dilute the significance of terms, we may find ourselves unprepared and intellectually unarmed, when the real thing comes knocking on our door.